The Husband She Couldn't Forget. Carmen Green

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      “A sister or best friend?”

      “A friend.” Him. Only him.

      “Go in your house and call her right now. Okay?”

      “Okay.” Melanie turned the knob and put her shoulders into pushing the heavy door open. “Thank you.”

      “You’re welcome.”

      Inside the house, her sneakers made hush, hush sounds on the nearly black hardwood floors and not for the first time, she felt as if the cool silence was mocking her. She’d only agreed to this house because she’d thought they’d fill it with children. But they’d been trying for five years and she didn’t need telepathy to tell her that the papers in her hand were her expiration notice.

      “Dial Deion’s cell phone,” she said aloud to the voice-activated system that controlled everything in the house.

      She walked to their bedroom to Deion’s closet and didn’t notice more than the usual amount of clothes gone.

      Deion was in New York at a conference for portfolio managers. She could hear his cell ringing, then roll over to voice mail. She sat on the end of their bed.

      “This is Deion Bishop. I’m making deals happen, and if you’re ready, I’ll make them happen for you. Leave your name and number.” His voice was still sexy after seven years of being together. She hadn’t tired of it. Would never.

      “Honey, we need to talk,” she said, injecting a smile into her voice. “There has to be some way we can make this work. We can talk about anything. Please call me here at home. I love you. Goodbye. End call.”

      Two weeks after she was served, Melanie slid her maid’s paycheck through the crack in the front door, but wouldn’t open it all the way. “I don’t need you this week, Juanita. I’m just not feeling well and I don’t want you to catch my germs.”

      “Mrs. Bishop, I clean two times a week, every week for five years. Mr. Bishop says so. He doesn’t like his bathroom with any dirt. I’m coming in.”

      “No!” Melanie swallowed her tears. “Mr. Bishop isn’t here right now, so there’s no need to worry about his bathroom. Here, I’ll pay you for the entire month. I’ll call you when I need you. Thank you, Juanita.”

      “Mrs. Bishop, you okay?”

      “I’m fine,” she said, closing out the concerned-looking woman. “Goodbye. I’ll call you. Really. Bye, now.”

      “Mrs. Bishop.”

      Melanie closed the door and walked back to her bedroom. “Call Deion at work,” she commanded, relieved when she saw Juanita’s car slowly leave the cul-de-sac.

      “Good morning, MJM Portfolio Management.”

      “This is Melanie Bishop. May I speak to Rod Burke?”

      “Just a moment, please.”

      At least this time she didn’t get the baffled silence from the receptionist.

      “Melanie, it’s Rod. I heard that you’ve been calling.”

      “I have, Rod. Deion isn’t home from a trip he left from two weeks ago. I’m worried. He hasn’t answered his cell and I’m not sure where exactly he is.” She’d been weeping so long, her throat was raw. She cleared it, knowing she sounded like a desperate housewife. “Where is he?”

      “Melanie, Deion quit working here two weeks ago.”

      “What?” Shock and panic and a desperate sense that everything was coming to a close enveloped her. He loved his job and if he quit there, he had much bigger plans.

      “Deion walked in one day, said he had an opportunity he couldn’t pass up and handed in his resignation. I wasn’t happy at all, but I couldn’t stop him.”

      “When was this?”

      “Exactly two weeks ago today.”

      “Rod, do you still hold his license?”

      “No, I gave it to him. We severed all ties, and he left. Funny thing, though, I thought he was going to try to undercut me and take his top clients, then I’d have recourse to sue him, but he hasn’t touched them.”

      Melanie knew better than to say Deion wouldn’t cheat Rod, but that’s how Rod had gotten his start—by avoiding his former firm’s client list.

      “Nothing at all, Rod?”

      “Not a peep. Mel, I wish I could help, but I’ve got a meeting. I don’t know any more than I’ve told you.”

      “Sorry to bother you.”

      “No bother. Bye,” he said and hung up.

      Melanie listened to the dial tone. All communication between her and Rod was probably over forever.

      The tears poured from her as she walked from room to room, opening doors, letting her pain fill each space. Open-mouthed she cried out her sorrow in the nursery that would never know the rhapsody of her children’s glee. The guest room that had never experienced the joy of a guest, and the master bedroom that had lost its master and mistress.

      Tripping on her slippers, she tumbled down the step in the den and lay there, wishing her pain would end. Why hadn’t he just told her face-to-face it was over?

      How could he break her heart this way?

      A hand touched her shoulder and she jumped.

      “Mrs. Bishop, why are you crying?”

      “Juanita? You’re back.”

      “Yes, ma’am. I was worried about you. Come on, get up. I was afraid. This is my husband, Jusef.”

      They helped her off the floor and to the sofa. Juanita dispatched her husband to the kitchen for a towel and glass of water. “What’s wrong?”

      “He left me and I don’t know why. Just served me with divorce papers weeks ago and he’s gone.”

      Juanita rubbed Melanie’s back and closed her eyes. “Let me pray for you.”

      Softly in Spanish she prayed for Melanie as Jusef stood in the doorway and waited. When his wife was done, he brought the water. “May I see the papers? I’m in law school.”

      “You are? Juanita, I didn’t know.”

      Shame filled Melanie because she’d never gotten to know the woman who cleaned her house and had indulged her and Deion’s nonsensical wishes. “I’m so sorry.”

      “No. I came here to do my job not to talk, talk, talk. I do enough of that at home. I’m helping Jusef through law school and then he will help me through culinary arts school. We will do well together.”

      There was love in this family, Melanie saw, and respect. She wished she’d been able to have that with СКАЧАТЬ