A Corner of Her Heart (Begin Again Book 1) Read online

  “So not true.” Monica glared in Brad’s direction before facing the therapist. “I wanted to visit the Georgia O’Keeffe Museum, and Brady, our oldest, wanted to see where Billy the Kid lived.”

  “What was the real reason you wanted to go to New Mexico?” Brad asked. The question seemed innocent enough, but Monica flinched at Brad’s nervous tapping on the chair arm. “I don’t get why you pushed so hard.”

  “I didn’t push.” Her obsession with New Mexico had turned out to be more than a vacation wish. Intuition drew her to the state where she sensed her life was under attack. “The kids kept asking where you are when you’re out of town,” she finally answered. “I’ve shown them on the map how far Phoenix is from Albuquerque. Less than five hundred miles, but it’s like another world to them. I thought it would be fun to see your plant.”

  Brad frowned. “There’s nothing to see.”

  “A week later, you brought home tickets to Disneyland. Such a perfect diversion that I never mentioned New Mexico again.” Monica’s tears welled and spilled onto her blouse. You didn’t want to tell me the truth, and I guess I didn’t want to know.

  Chapter Two

  Staring at Monica, Brad wondered how his life changed so drastically in a month. His two promotions over the last four years had expanded his territory, his paycheck, and his responsibilities. Thanks to video conferencing technology, he routinely addressed many of his duties from in front of a high-definition computer screen. Rarely did he travel farther than the Phoenix facility, and when he did, the trip was for meetings at the Seattle corporate offices. He had no excuse to see Samantha Stewart until the BayRock annual meeting some thirty days ago.

  “If Greg hadn’t invited me to the corporate banquet, I might have never found out about Sam.” Monica’s voice caught like a stuck zipper. “She was in New Mexico. Me and the boys are here in Arizona. Never the twain shall meet.”

  Brad glanced at Monica and swallowed hard. “The affair had ended as quickly as it started.” He rolled his hands into balls. “Should I have told her that I cheated? How would that have helped?”

  Laura Ekker leaned forward as though she was about to offer insight, but Monica interrupted her.

  “Telling me wouldn’t have helped. The deceit had already happened. Bumping into Sam at the banquet, finding out that way added to the pain. That’s all. You cheated on me, and I had to meet her. I touched her.” Monica’s hands shook, and she turned away.

  “I didn’t want you to find out, and certainly not the way you did.” Brad had planned to skip the banquet until Greg Baylor insisted he attend.

  “Brad told me none of the spouses were coming,” Monica said.

  “The affair was over. You meeting Samantha would serve no purpose.”

  “But the two of them not meeting, what purpose would that serve?” Laura Ekker asked.

  “I don’t know,” he replied, his voice now several decibels louder. Monica and Samantha. Two trains rumbling down the same track only to collide at their destination. At that moment, hearts violently twisted and lives were irreparably changed. The impact of Brad’s foolish choices left him immobile, hollow. He caused the wreckage, the pain. Monica’s faith in him was now shattered. Fear swirled in his gut. His pulse thumped harder at the realization that he might lose his wife. His family.

  “I started to tell you,” Brad said. “I wanted to confess everything and start over.” He reached for Monica’s hands, but she yanked them away. “And that’s why I didn’t.” I knew the reaction I’d get. You would never forgive me. You’d never forget.

  Dr. Ekker interjected, “Your wife is still coming to terms with what happened. You do understand that this is all new to Monica, right?”

  Brad stood. “Of course, but is punishing me worth sacrificing our family?” He leaned toward Monica. Her lips were set in a rigid line, new wrinkles fanned out around the eyes that used to look at him with love and laughter. And trust. The hard edge of her gaze dropped a rock onto the mound growing in his stomach.

  “Baby, I’m so sorry. I’ll live the rest of my life making this up to you. Just don’t give up on me. On us.”

  She batted her eyelashes, and a tear fell. Brad’s body seized. His stupid decision caused her tears. “I will never give you any reason to doubt me ever again,” Brad said, knowing he probably wouldn’t keep this promise either. His relationship with Sam wasn’t over. What they shared could never truly end.

  Chapter Three

  Days later, Monica entered the house and tossed her keys on the entry table.

  “Where have you been?” Brady, her oldest son, asked.

  Monica glanced toward Bodie, her baby, trailing behind her. “We were at the pediatrician’s office.”

  “The Bodeman, still not feeling good?”

  “No.” Bodie’s wavy blond hair shifted as he shook his head. “They poked me with needles and sucked out my blood.” He pointed to a Band-Aid stuck on the inside of his forearm. “See.”

  “For goodness sakes,” Monica raised her eyebrows, “you act as though there are vampires at Dr. Kole’s office.”

  “Maybe no vampires, but one of the nurses looks like a horse.” Brady high-fived his little brother.

  “Honestly, you two.” Monica hooked her purse strap onto the coat rack and headed toward the family room, Bodie following behind. “That’s not a nice thing to say.”

  “It’s true though, isn’t it, Mom?” the fifteen-year-old egged on.

  “Stop it, Brady.” Monica’s words were harsh, but the corners of her mouth lifted into a half-grin, betraying her attempt at discipline.

  “What so funny?” Brian, the second oldest, stood in the entryway. Burke, four years older than Bodie, was on his heels noshing potato chips.

  “Brady said Dr. Kole’s nurse looks like a horse.” Bodie giggled.

  “Neigh. Neigh,” Brady whinnied and pranced down the hall clomping his feet like hoofs. His younger brothers joined in the equestrian parade, braying and stomping their way to the kitchen, Bodie trotting slowly behind.

  Brad, who had been in the kitchen, flattened against the wall to avoid the stampede. “What was that?” he asked. “The running of the bulls?”

  “Just another day at the races,” Monica replied.

  He kissed her quickly on the cheek. “How did the appointment go?”

  She moved away, struggling to even look at Brad, much less let him kiss her. Their appointment with Dr. Ekker a few days earlier opened new holes in her heart—painful gaps that compromised her love. Still she didn’t want the boys to notice their parents were unhappy.

  “They’re running some tests.” Monica motioned for Brad to join her on the couch. “We’ll know more in a few days. I’m worried, Brad.”

  For over a week, Bodie had complained of achy joints. That morning he had a fever and chills. At first, Monica dismissed the illness as the flu, until she spotted a purplish, veiny bruise on his arm. She kept him home from school and called her pediatrician for an appointment.

  Brad sat. “We don’t have anything to worry about.”

  “I have a bad feeling.” Monica leaned forward to see if any of the boys could hear. “Dr. Kole didn’t offer his usual sunshiny outlook. He seemed pensive, not wanting to guess or promise anything.”

  “What did he say about the discoloration on his shins?”

  “He asked Bodie if he fell at school.” Monica’s heart climbed into her throat and pressed against her airway. “Or if anyone was hurting him. Then he opened the hospital gown. There were more yellowish-pink blotches on Bodie’s chest and his thighs. Dr. Kole’s face went white, and he immediately called his nurse in to take blood. Something is wrong with our baby.” Choking on the words, she laid her head against Brad’s chest. Bodie’s illness was more than a routine bout of the flu that she could cure with chicken noodle soup, vapor rub, and a bedtime story.

  “Not our power forward.” Brad tilted her face toward his. “Monie, remember what I told you the day he was born?” r />
  She nodded, wiping a tear.

  “Now I have my basketball team.” He kissed her fingertips. “I’d match my Morgan’s Marauders against any five guys.”

  “He’s not well.” Monica blinked. “I’m frightened that this is something serious.”

  “I should have met you at the doctor’s office,” he said.

  She shook her head. “I needed you to be home with this group.” She gestured toward the kitchen.

  “Everything will be okay. I promise.” Brad lifted her hand and kissed it. “Dr. Kole will find out what’s wrong, and we will fix it. We always fix it.”

  She smiled weakly, her vision blurred by tears.

  “Bowden Michael Morgan will be fine. Do you believe me?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s carrying your mother’s maiden name, for cripes’ sake. He’s one tough namesake.”

  Bodie was supposed to be Bridget Catherine. They had picked the girl name before their first son was born and hoped to use it each time Monica got pregnant. Emptiness clawed inside Monica’s soul as a fresh set of tears filled her eyes. They’d given up on having a girl. Another wound re-opened. A daughter would never be a part of the Morgan household.

  ***

  As soon as Bodie boarded the school bus the next day, Monica loaded her paint tubes, a few brushes, and her box easel into the car. Without room in their house for an artist’s studio, she took to the outdoors to nurture her creative side. The world could be her studio. Her muse.

  Every Tuesday Monica travelled to Tres Rios Wetlands, seeking inspiration. Today, though, she opted for the seclusion of Rainbow Valley Trail. She craved the panoramic view of ironwood trees and downtown Phoenix accessible after a moderate hike. If she ventured farther, she could see Camelback Mountain.

  Last year, after complaining about never having time to paint, Brad and the boys surprised her with a weekend in Sedona. She was less than two hours from home, but the plein air workshops immersed her in a world away. The instructor’s compliments on Monica’s subtle brushstrokes and eye for composition reaffirmed her passion. Since then Tuesdays were her day to paint.

  Monica found a flat space on the side of the trail to place her stool. She took in the radiant sunlight peeking through an overcast sky as she set up her easel. A man tethered to a German shepherd jogged by. Here in the open air, the world was perfect. No problem insurmountable. She took in a deep breath, wanting to rewind to when fitting in time to paint between her sons’ school activities and music lessons was her biggest worry.

  With the magic of Phoenix in the foreground, she placed a blank canvas on the easel and stared, pondering the similarity between her life and the white space glaring at her. Both were unknown, unwritten.

  What would she paint? Would she be able to capture the light, the movement, the essence of the ironwood tree? Would she and Brad be okay? Was Bodie’s health issue minor? What would she do if it’s something serious?

  With brush in hand, the scenery appeared gradually, brushstroke after brushstroke. Just the way life developed, slowly and with purpose—day after day, hour after hour, moment after moment.

  Tomorrow she and Brad would meet again with Dr. Ekker. The first two sessions hadn’t supplied a magic cure to their ailing marriage. There would be no easy answer. But for these few hours, nestled among the inhabitants of Estrella Mountain, Monica could imagine, anticipate, and dream of beautiful scenes and pray for happy endings.

  ***

  The following Friday, Monica stared out the passenger window, mystified at how the world turns no matter your personal pain and tragedy. The day’s heat wilted purple, yellow, and red lantana shrubs that thrived in gardens and business landscapes along the roadway. Monica wondered if butterflies had visited the trailing mounds of lantana she planted a few springs back. Perhaps this year, she would add orange and pink spikes of Desert Sunrise to her garden, and attract hummingbirds as well.

  “So what’s your opinion of Dr. Ekker?” she asked Brad, not certain she wanted to hear his answer. Her husband had been deeply silent on the drive home from their third counseling appointment. Monica took a long breath. I won’t make any permanent decisions, like filing for divorce. Not yet.

  “She seems to know her stuff,” Brad stammered, his fingers curled around the steering wheel as though he clutched a life preserver.

  His chest barely moved, and Monica sensed a renewed tenseness between them. An echoing, deep emptiness grew inside her stomach. “Dr. Ekker said adultery is not about sex.” Monica sent a sideways glance at Brad.

  “Do you want to stop at a coffee shop and talk?” he asked.

  “No, we’ve left the kids with Kate long enough.”

  “Only Burke and Bodie.”

  “I know, but I want to get home and see Bodie.”

  “The doctor said we’ll have the results in by early next week.” Brad used his comforting voice; the one Monica now knew he employed when bad news was heading her way. “Bodie is going to be fine.”

  Monica stared at Brad as he turned the steering wheel to round the corner. “I don’t want to be away from him any longer.”

  “A few minutes won’t matter.” Pulling into a parking lot, Brad stopped the car. “Let’s get a cup of coffee and talk. You can get all this off your chest.”

  “Off my chest!” Monica slammed her hand on the center console. “I have a lot to get off my chest.” She fought the tears welling in her eyes as her ribs tightened like a corset.

  Brad released his seatbelt. “I didn’t mean … This is our third appointment. We’re not making any headway. We could do better on our own.”

  The key to recovering from an affair is directly related to what happens immediately after the infidelity is discovered.

  The words from Dr. Ekker’s website scrawled through Monica’s mind like a newsfeed at the bottom of a television screen.

  Complete healing can take place in two years. Some couples take longer, a few recover faster.

  Monica left her belt buckled and turned toward Brad. “Dr. Ekker said most men cheat for an emotional connection. How did we get disconnected?”

  “It wasn’t like that.” He reached for her hand, but she pulled away. “The affair with Samantha—”

  “How trite we’ve become. Did you cry to Sam that your wife doesn’t understand you?” A tear slipped down Monica’s cheek. “Did you play the misunderstood husband to get her in bed?”

  “The affair didn’t happen because you weren’t the best wife and mother, because you are.” A surge of pain flashed through Brad’s eyes. Monica’s stomach clenched, and she turned away.

  His voice lowered. “I guess a midlife crisis hit.”

  Crossing her arms, she rubbed her hands up and down her skin. Midlife crisis. Was that supposed to make his cheating forgivable?

  He turned Monica’s face toward his and she watched his hazel eyes grow wide with anger and hurt. “We can fix this by ourselves.”

  “Something is broken. I don’t know if we can repair our relationship, but our children deserve us to try.” Monica stared straight ahead. “Take me home. I need to see Bodie.”

  ***

  A few days later, Monica’s stomach fluttered as she tromped the steps to Belshaw Meetings & Events. She hoped Liz Belshaw, the owner and Monica’s former boss, would agree to this odd request.

  Liz met Monica in the lobby and hugged her quickly. “I haven’t seen you since Bodie’s baby shower.”

  “Has it been that long?” Monica inquired, following Liz to her office.

  Liz pointed to a chair and sat, facing her former protégé. “This is the first time you’ve stopped by.”

  “I know. I think of you guys all the time. It’s just that with four kids, my days are pretty full.” Monica shifted to get comfortable in the box-like arm chair. The piles of papers and files strewn randomly around Liz’s office drew Monica back to when her profession yielded financial compensation. These days her paycheck consisted of sticky, jelly-tasting kiss
es and scraped knees. She had made the right career move.

  “I remember those busy mom days. I hope you’re enjoying them. They are fleeting.” Liz’s eyes sliced to a photo on the credenza behind her desk. Monica guessed the three smiling faces were Liz’s grandkids.

  Bodie’s sweet smile flashed in Monica’s mind.

  “Do you have pictures?” Liz leaned forward with an outstretched hand.

  Monica fished through her purse for her cell phone to show Liz photos.

  “They are so handsome, just like Brad.” Liz handed the phone back.

  “Thank you.” Her sons could be a diorama of the stages of Brad’s youth. “The reason I’m here is to ask a favor. It’s a little off the beaten path.”

  “Anything you need, say the word.”

  “Well,” Monica stammered, “Brad and I have been having a rough patch. We’ve been seeing a marriage therapist to work out our issues.”

  Liz tilted her head to the side. “That sounds positive.”

  Monica blew out a breath. “Part of the therapy is to go back to where you first met and fell in love.”

  Liz’s eyebrows lifted. “To recreate the magic?”

  “That’s the theory.” Monica blinked, embarrassed at the idea. “Rekindle those emotions that first attracted us to each other.”

  “You met Brad at a sales pitch, right?”

  “He was on the site search committee for the American Association of Manufacturers conference and trade show.”

  “You and Deana couldn’t stop talking about what a stud he was.”

  Monica blushed. In her single days, she and Deana Schermeyer were on the prowl. Their careers provided a parade of men in every shape, size, and age.

  Always the organizer, Monica suggested a scoring system to keep things straight. A one: give him back to mama. A five: closing time … if no better offer came along. Monica scratched her head trying to remember all the clever descriptions. A ten: peel my clothes away. She had rated Brad an eleven.

  “So how can I help?”

  “Could I borrow my old office for about an hour?” Monica hated the pleading, whiny sound of her voice. “Any day and time you say will work. That’s where we met and where Brad proposed.”