My mother cooks us breakfast, her words of encouragement filling the room. This morning feels strange, a departure from my usual routine of caring for others. For years, my life revolved around the needs of my children and Deacon, always putting them before myself.
My father and I leave shortly after eating to meet his old college friend, Leonard, who is an attorney. As we park outside the office, Dad says, “You know, we haven’t hired anyone to do the accounts at the funeral home since Nancy left a couple of months ago, and since you’re familiar with the place, the job is yours if you want it.”
“So long as you’re paying more than I got in high school,” I tell him with a grin.
“Oh, I think we can manage more than seven dollars an hour,” he says, smiling, as he opens the door to the attorney’s office reception area.
A tall, white-haired man greets us from the doorway.
Leonard ushers us into his office, gesturing for us to sit. As I settle into the chair, I notice the numerous family photos adorning his office walls. A memory surfaces, unbidden.
I rarely visited Deacon’s office. There was never a need or time. Two years ago, I dropped off some files for him and noticed the absence of our family photos.
“You don’t have any photos of us here,” I had pointed out.
“It’s against company policy,” was his curt reply.
As I left his office that day, I glanced into other offices. Each one was filled with photos of smiling families and couples. I had brushed it off then, attributing it to Deacon’s occasional odd behavior.
Now, I realize the probable truth—he didn’t want anyone to know he was married.
“Mrs. Dodson, your father filled me in on your situation last night. Is there anything you’d like to add to the details of yesterday’s events?” Leonard asks.
“Deacon came here Friday night. We talked, and I reiterated my desire for a divorce. The woman he’s been seeing is his PA, who he claims has been working with him for a year. He insisted it was a one-time thing, but he’s given her access to our house. Would hiring a private detective negatively impact my case?” I ask, desperate for the answers that Deacon is unwilling to provide.
“No, it would actually strengthen your case. I don’t usually handle family law, but my son does. He says private detectives often provide the evidence needed in divorce cases. When it comes to infidelity, the guilty party rarely admits the full extent of their actions. I’ve already contacted a private detective who I believe is perfect for your case. He started working on it last night,” Leonard explains.
I can see the pity in his eyes. His old friend is here, seeking help for his daughter’s predicament. I wonder if he ever faced a similar situation in his own family.
I have been fortunate to be surrounded by loyal people in my life. That is, until Deacon proved himself to be a cheating bastard.
“Is it the same detective Bennett mentioned last night?” Dad asks.
“Yes, the very same. Bennett, my son, will assist remotely. He’s currently out of state on another case. He’s excellent with family law and is more than willing to help.”
My mind is racing, consumed by thoughts of what the private investigator might uncover. After what happened at the house, I am certain Deacon has been lying to me for longer than I realized. How will I cope with the knowledge of his betrayal, and the impact on our children?
Shit. I need to get tested. I can’t risk believing his claim of a one-time affair. He could have exposed me to any number of diseases.
“Calliope. Honey, are you all right?” I hear my Dad’s concerned voice.
“Just thinking about all the things I’ll need to do. Mr. Thomas, if I get tested and find out that I’ve contracted something because of the affair, will that help my case?” I ask, unable to meet my father’s gaze.
“Trust me, Mrs. Dodson, it will all work out. I know this is a lot to digest.” He pauses, his tone softening. “If there’s anything you’re uncomfortable discussing with me, my paralegal is always available. She’s been with me since we relocated here and has personally navigated a situation similar to yours. I have complete faith in her, and you should too.” His words are reassuring.
“I think I’d appreciate that,” I respond.
As my father and Mr. Thomas delve into the nitty-gritty of the divorce, I find myself drifting away. I know I should be paying attention, but my mind is elsewhere. Jet and Jamie adore their father, and I’m at a loss as to how to break the news to them.
Telling them we won’t be living together anymore is a task I’m not prepared for. They’re only six. They understand some things, but how do I explain our separation without revealing the reason?
Despite my anger toward him for his actions, I don’t want to turn the kids against him.
The ringing of my phone snaps me back to reality. I hesitate to check it, fearing it might be Deacon. My father gives me a nod, signaling me to answer. I pull it out of my pocket, not recognizing the number.
“Hello,” I answer.
“Mrs. Dodson, it’s Janet. I was Mr. Dodson’s assistant for many years.” Her voice is instantly familiar.
“Janet, I’m relieved to hear from you. Would you mind if I put you on speaker? I’m with my attorney right now, and I believe you could be of great help.” I wouldn’t normally be so forward, but this woman could hold the key to uncovering the truth about Deacon and Nicki.
“Absolutely,” she responds, and I switch to the speaker.
“You’re on with me, my father, and Mr. Thomas, my attorney,” I inform her.
“I heard through the grapevine that Mr. Dodson and Nicki were caught red-handed. Nicki was bragging about it at the office, and someone thought I should relay the message to you since I knew you personally. I’m so sorry, dear. I wish I could have stopped this from happening. But by the time I found out, it was already too late.” Her voice is filled with regret.
“Janet, this isn’t your fault,” I assure her.
“I should have seen it coming. Two years ago, I was abruptly let go without any explanation. Our state has the ‘employee at will’ law, so they didn’t have to provide a reason. Mr. Dodson didn’t even have the decency to do it himself. He had the head of HR handle it,” she told us.
“Were there any indications of something amiss before you were let go?” Mr. Thomas inquires.
“Yes. Nicki had started as the receptionist at the front desk. Within a week, she and Mr. Dodson were having lunch together. He was always taking strolls and ending up at reception.
There were whispers, but I didn’t pay them any mind because I believed he was in love with you. When I first started working for him, all he could talk about was you and the kids.”
“What happened next?” I ask.
“A month after she started, HR informed me that my services were no longer required. Someone cleared out my desk and brought my belongings to the HR office. I was then escorted out of the building. As I was leaving, my cell phone rang.
It was Nicki. She claimed Mr. Dodson as hers and warned me to stay silent if I knew what was good for me. She threatened that if I spilled a word, I’d never find work in this city again,” Janet said.
“Would you be willing to testify to this in court, Janet? And who spilled the beans about the affair?” Mr. Thomas said.
“A security guard told me. Apparently, Nicki couldn’t keep her mouth shut and the office was buzzing with the news. He thought Mrs. Dodson deserved to know. None of us intended to hurt you, Mrs. Dodson. But Nicki knew exactly how to intimidate everyone into silence.”
“I appreciate your courage in coming forward. Thank you, Janet.” I express my gratitude.
Later that afternoon, I find myself on the porch swing. For two hours, all I’ve done is swing and ponder. I know I’ll have to get up and move eventually, but for now, I just want to think.
My thoughts drift back to the first time Deacon missed my birthday, two years ago. The kids were with my parents, and we had plans to go out to my favorite Italian restaurant. I had dressed up in my favorite outfit, adorned with my favorite makeup and jewelry.
Deacon was supposed to meet me there after work. We planned to enjoy a nice dinner and maybe catch a movie afterward. It had been so long since our last date that it felt almost surreal. Deacon had been swamped with work, and the kids were quite a handful at the time.
I remember feeling fortunate to have even one night alone with my husband. I arrived punctually and was seated at our table. Twenty minutes ticked by and there was no sign of Deacon.
I sent him a text, checking if everything was okay. It was unlike him to be late. Another twenty minutes passed and still no word from him. I could feel the wait staff’s eyes on me, making me feel small and insignificant.
I dialed his number, but it went straight to voicemail. Despite this, I clung to the hope that he would show up. After a two-hour wait, I left the restaurant. Instead of going home, I decided to watch a movie.
I can’t recall what I watched that night. All I remember is the ache in my heart. My husband, the man who had vowed to love me forever, stood me up on my birthday. I wept throughout the entire film.
Fortunately, there was no one near me in the theater. I let the tears flow, hoping to drain my sorrow before I return home. When I got home, it was late. I couldn’t recall the last time I had come home at eleven in the evening.
I had just set my purse down when I heard Deacon entering the front door. He was tiptoeing, trying not to wake us. I stood there in the dark, contemplating how to confront him. The kids weren’t home, so if a fight ensued, they wouldn’t hear.
As he navigated the living room, I switched on the light, startling him. “Shit!” he yelped, nearly jumping out of his skin. He spun around, his eyes wide with fear.
“What are you doing up at this hour?” He clutched his chest, as if that could calm his racing heart.
“I could ask you the same,” I retorted, my voice hoarse. Deacon looked puzzled. “I thought you’d be asleep after putting the kids to bed. Where have you been?” he asked, removing his jacket and tie.
“Do you even know what day it is, or rather, was?” I asked. I walked into the room and sat in the armchair that Deacon had insisted we buy. He called them classy. I called them uncomfortable.
Deacon finally looked at me, taking in my outfit. I watched him think and study me, and then I saw the moment it hit him what day it was and what he had missed.
