Total humiliation flooded her entire body. Thank God she was behind a closed door where he couldn't see her. "Things" had gotten more than just a little wild. She'd been absolutely out of control.
"I'm fine, Eli," she snapped, embarrassment making her sound sharper than she intended. She tried to moderate her tone, soften her words, but it was too hard. "Or I will be if you'll go on and give me a few seconds to myself."
To pull myself together, she meant. But before she could say it, he spoke.
"Sure, Marilyn. Whatever you want." And his footsteps walked away from the door, out of the bedroom.
Oh, Lord, now she'd hurt his feelings. Marilyn grabbed her robe off the hook on the bathroom door and threw it on. She was still wrapping it around her as she bounded down the stairs, but she was too slow.
She threw open the back door and heard his motorcycle catch. "Eli!"
He couldn't hear her over the engine. He didn't see her dash barefoot into the frost-kissed yard as he took the Harley out into the street and was gone.
Dammit. Marilyn rushed back into the house before her feet froze off. She'd have to hurry and get down to the shop and explain. Apologize.
But he wasn't at the shop. He didn't call or come in the whole time Marilyn worked, getting the bills printed out, stuffing them in envelopes, sealing them, sticking on the stamps. He wasn't there when she got back from the post office. Or after she picked Pete up from school. Or when Slug walked in from his school.
She tried not to panic. He'd ridden his motorcycle all over the United States without a scratch. He'd be fine. He'd be back. Pete was here. But when supper was on the table and Eli still wasn't back, it was awfully damn hard to keep the panic at bay.
"Better sit down and eat, guys," she finally said after waiting another half hour.
"Where's Eli?" Stevie asked.
"I--" What should she tell the boys? What could she tell them? "He had to--"
The phone rang and Pete knocked over his chair getting to it before anyone else could. "Hello? Oh, hey, Dad."
Marilyn wilted in relief. He was all right.
"Yeah, she's here." Pete cut his eyes toward Marilyn. "Fine."
She moved toward him, her hand out for the phone. "Pete, let me--"
"Okay. Sure. See ya then." He hung up.
"...talk to him," Marilyn finished.
"Oh, sorry. Did you want to talk too?" Pete picked up his chair and sat on it. "Can we eat? I'm about starved to death."
"Sure. Eat." Marilyn got the big pan of chicken and rice out of the oven. It wasn't too dried out. "What did Eli have to say?"
"He went to visit Fitz. See how he's doing. Figure out some stuff. He'll be home tomorrow."
Home. The word did funny things to Marilyn's insides. "Is this home, Pete?"
"Well, yeah. Duh. We live here, don't we?" Pete rolled his eyes like she'd lost her mind.
Stevie grinned at her. "Yeah. Duh. We live here."
Marilyn gave him a hug. Tears gathered in her eyes as he hugged her back. He hadn't done that before. Did Eli think of it as home too?
He was coming back tomorrow. Would things go back like they were before? Did she want them to? She didn't know anything anymore, except that she was in love with Eli and she wanted him home. To stay. And that would never happen.
Eli took the long way back from Erie. He never went to see Fitz, though he'd intended to, partly because he didn't want to disturb his fragile peace with his daughter. Mostly because he didn't want to listen to any lectures on how bad he'd screwed things up with Marilyn.
He'd spent part of the night in a bar, the rest at the Salvation Army shelter downtown, looking and feeling about as downtrodden as the rest of the bums. He left a fat donation in the bucket to assuage his guilt.
How could he have been so stupid? On the drive up, he realized that he'd actually said it out loud. Told Marilyn he loved her. No wonder she locked herself in the bathroom.
When he'd lost control in the past, he'd done all kinds of crazy things, from beating the shit out of Flash to bashing in car headlights and breaking a cop's nose. Thank God he'd been only fifteen or his record would be a mile long.
So, okay. This was it. Marilyn was ready for him to leave. He had to plan things out. Make arrangements. Figure out what to say to her. Maybe if he practiced the rest of the way home, he could say it without cracking.
Marilyn went back home after taking the boys to school that morning. She didn't have the energy to go into the shop. The ringing of the phone brought her out of her chair to answer, heart in her throat. Eli? Or the highway patrol to tell her--?
The background static and tentative nasal voice of a telemarketer infuriated her. She slammed the phone down before two words were spoken. How dare they--? Then her eyes lit on the microwave clock. It was twelve thirty-two.
The morning was gone. It had sifted away while she sat at the kitchen table, not thinking, not doing anything, drifting in limbo.
No. She would not let it happen again. Marilyn wasn't the same person she'd been after Bill and Kevin died. She was stronger now, stronger than she'd been before she lost so much, because she had survived.
It would hurt when Eli said goodbye, whether it was today or next week or next month. Even if she fell deeper in love with him for every day that passed. She would survive his leaving. And she wouldn't regret a second of their time together.
Lots of widows never had the chance to love another man, and here
