Hold for Release, page 3
“Meow.”
Jake held a gray kitten and scratched its head. “Guess it’s good we’re not going out to eat. I’ll stop at the corner store and grab some kitty food. Maybe later this week, you can take it to the animal shelter. Unless you want to keep it.”
The shelter. Carlotta winced as she climbed in the car.
Jake removed his fedora, and placed the kitten inside the hat and then on Carlotta’s lap.
She petted the creature.
As Jake drove away, the kitten settled down.
Carlotta shifted her gaze out the window, her brain on autopilot most of the way. When finally safe in her own home, Carlotta watered her house plants, starting with the ferns, Mary and Jane, and then she moved on to the spider plants, Lydia and Kitty. Finally, she approached Elizabeth, who sat near the sink. For some reason, the Christmas cactus wouldn’t bloom. Strong arms wrapped around Carlotta’s waist, and she jumped. She turned to face Jake.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Carlotta gestured to the cactus. “I can’t take care of plants.” She crossed her arms. “Perhaps you better feed the kitten.”
Jake reached for Carlotta. “Maybe the cactus needs some better soil or fertilizer.”
Carlotta pushed the plant toward the window. “Or more light.”
Jake scrunched his nose. “Yeah, I’m not so sure about that.” He moved the plant back to its original location. “My grandma used to say too much light can scorch them.”
The kitten stumbled into the room and meowed, and Jake fed it.
“I need to take a bath.” Carlotta walked away. She ran the water in the old clawfoot tub and added bubble bath. After several minutes, she checked the water temperature and climbed in. A lavender scent filled the room. Bubbles enveloping her, Carlotta lounged in her tub and stared at nothing in particular. Poor Ed was really dead. Her hands shook, and tears welled. She sobbed until her tears were spent. She’d need to tell her sister about his death. Carlotta didn’t know if their casual dates had turned into something else for Rosario. At that consideration, the tears she’d thought she was done with cascaded again.
And because Ed was dead, she’d managed to avoid dinner with Jake for another night. She berated herself for the selfishness of that thought. But if they went out, they’d see happy couples with kids. Did God not think she was nurturing enough to be a mother? She’d had to bow out from volunteering to help with story time at the library to maintain her sanity. Moms and babies—just too much. Especially the teen moms—proof that anyone and everyone, except her, could get pregnant.
~*~
Had it only been a day since Ed’s death? Sighing, Carlotta sank deep into her chair at the checkout desk and glanced at the clock. Five more minutes, and she could go home. Take another bubble bath. Forget what happened the day before.
A tall, brown-haired man in a red cap carrying a brown bag approached. He plunked a book on the counter and looked at her. His eyes widened. “Carlotta?”
Her gaze narrowed. He’d slimmed down. Lost a few pounds. Plus, she’d never seen him wear a hat to the library before.
“Xavier? Your card, please.”
He leaned forward and handed her his card. A pleasant, woodsy, manly cologne smell accompanied him.
She scanned the card and then returned it to him. “Thanks.”
“I haven’t seen you for a while, Carlotta.” Xavier’s gaze shifted downward. “I, I uh, went camping with some friends.”
Maybe college buddies. From all appearances, he had to be younger than her. She picked up the book he’d set down. “Catcher in the Rye? You know, oddly enough, I’ve never read it.” She scanned the book and set it aside.
“Neither have I. Oh, one more thing.” Xavier reached into the bag slung over his shoulder and retrieved a DVD. He set it on the counter and slid it toward Carlotta.
Carlotta picked up the movie and scanned it. “Zodiac?”
He grinned and looked away. “Yeah, maybe you can recommend some other true crime stories for me.”
She glanced at the back of the DVD and set it atop the book. “This would be right up my husband’s alley.”
“Oh, I didn’t know you were married.” Xavier shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Yeah. To a newspaper journalist.”
How did he not know she was…? She glimpsed the fingers on her left hand where her rings had been. The fertility hormones had made her fingers swollen. So she’d taken them off lately. And maybe Xavier hadn’t noticed.
“Huh.” Xavier pulled at his collar.
Carlotta printed a receipt for Xavier. “I’m finished working the desk in about five minutes. When my replacement comes, I’d be happy to walk you over to the true crime section. Or you could ask the librarian at the reference desk.”
“You know, I just remembered I have to, um, meet a buddy for dinner. Maybe I’ll come back and check out more books and DVDs then.”
“OK.” She handed him the book and movie. “They’re due back in two weeks. Bye.”
Xavier waved and walked away.
Her coworker, Nicole, approached.
Carlotta quirked a brow. “You’re here early.”
“Not much traffic.” Nicole folded her arms. “You let poor Xavier down easily, I hope.”
“What do you mean?” Carlotta got up from her seat and moved aside.
Nicole plopped down onto the chair and shook her head. “C’mon. It’s obvious that guy has a crush on you.”
“Really? I never, well, now that you say it. Anyway, I told him I’m married, so now he knows.” Even if he had feelings for her, it was just a little crush. Completely harmless. Not like the stalker in the romantic suspense book she’d put on hold. The back cover blurb made that guy sound like a psycho.
After the animal shelter break-in, Jake’s coworker had mentioned some triad involving psychopaths. If there had been a psychopath on the loose…
Her phone chimed.
I made reservations for dinner tomorrow night.
She swept a hand across her forehead. He was trying to be nice. She needed to go and try to enjoy the evening.
~*~
Carlotta swiped her brow. What a day. But she’d survived. Always a relief after an author event. And this one was quite the diva. Demanding this and that. But it was over now. Even though the woman’s acrid perfume scent still lingered.
Parents had picked up the unattended kids in the children’s section, and Carlotta had re-shelved the books in the nonfiction section correctly. She held a book closer and sniffed the pages. The older the book, often, the better the smell. Sweet, like vanilla flowers and almonds. Given her chaotic home life, she’d found solace in books. Maybe that’s why she became so defensive when patrons treated them carelessly.
After locating books to be put on hold, Carlotta placed them on a cart and wheeled them behind the front desk. She glanced at the library clock: 5:00 PM. No getting out of dinner tonight. Forget how it makes you feel. Think of Jake.
She went outside and sat on a bench to wait for Jake. She removed a historic fiction book from her purse and began reading. The clearing of a throat tore her gaze away from the World War II scene and to her husband, now standing several feet away. Carlotta stuffed the book back into her purse. The hero would have to rescue the heroine later. Her own hero, or was he a former hero now that they seemed to be falling apart, walked toward her. He moved with easy grace and had shoes on this time.
“I have to ask something.” He gave her that smile she loved and then frowned a little.
When had they lost their place in their own lives? She leaned in and put her arms around his neck, unconsciously parting her lips. “As a journalist or as my husband?”
Moving closer, Jake put his hands on her waist. “Any unusual patrons at the library, babe?”
Carlotta released her hold with surprising reluctance. “Nicole thinks one has…had a crush on me.”
Jake quirked a brow. “Had?”
Carlotta shrugged. “I told him I was married.”
Her husband looked down at the ground and shuffled his feet. “What about Oliver?”
“Oliver Robertson? What about him?” She crossed her arms. “You don’t think he…? C’mon, Jake. He’s the pacifist type.”
Jake frowned. “But I stole his fiancée. All bets are off.” Jake rubbed his face. “Has a pretty good right hook if I remember correctly. What’s he up to now?”
“Has some sort of Eco Tour experience near Dayton. Out in the country. Zip lining, kayaking, crossbows, archery, and everything. Recreated the ancient mound earthworks found throughout Ohio.”
Jake pursed his lips. “Sounds as if you’ve been keeping tabs.”
“Saw him in a magazine at the library. I read on my break sometimes. And while I read your articles, I also read about things other than crime.”
He nodded and crossed his arms.
Carlotta’s stomach quivered. She tried to slow her breathing.
Grabbing her hand, Jake asked. “Everything OK?”
“Yeah.”
Sighing, Jake patted his coat. “Ugh.”
“What is it?” Most likely he’d forgotten his wallet or watch. The usual suspects.
He threw his hands in the air. “The flowers. I left them at my desk.”
“You bought flowers?” She recounted the other times he’d purchased them and winced.
“Yes, is that OK?”
“You only give me flowers when you’ve done something wrong.” She studied his eyes. Like Dad after a late-night business meeting with his attractive secretary. Jake had been working later more often. At first, she relished the quiet time to finish novels she’d bring home from work. But then things became too silent. Who could she confide to about her infertility struggle? Certainly not Rosario. Nope, her sister wouldn’t understand. She shouldn’t let her mind run wild. Maybe he worked late to avoid the pain, too.
Jake avoided her gaze.
“When they examined Ed…did they find he’d been tortured, or something equally gruesome?” Carlotta could hardly stand the thought.
“Nooo…”
“Or is someone else we know pregnant?” Each announcement, another reminder of her failures. Carlotta swiped a tear and headed toward her car.
Her husband stopped her from opening the door. “What are you doing? Come with me.”
“I don’t want to.”
He tugged her close. “I’m sorry about what happened to Ed. But you need to hear what I have to say. I’ve put it off for far too long. Waiting any longer will not make things better.”
“Fine. But please, no mention of adoption. Not tonight.” She followed him and hopped into his car—anything at this point to get her mind off of Ed’s death and her own shortcomings. Life couldn’t get much lower than this.
3
“You weren’t working late on some project. You were...” Carlotta shifted her gaze to the crystal chandeliers dangling over the round restaurant tables where fellow patrons dined on filet and lobster, regained her composure, lowered her voice and scowled. “You know, with that woman from your office.”
“Shh. As I said, it wasn’t my intention, and it won’t ever happen again. I only wanted someone to talk to. Things have been rough, Carlotta. Things have become…” He cleared his throat.
Carlotta glanced upward, ping-ponged her gaze back to Jake and away again. His woodsy cologne overwhelmed her, enticing and repulsing at the same time.
“Well, frankly, things have become mechanical. Less spontaneous. Infertility doctors have stepped in and taken over our love life. Are you even listening to me?”
Carlotta clenched her fists. Her nails bit into her palms. A vision of Jake’s buxom coworker plagued her thoughts. It won’t happen again? Exactly how many times had Jake committed adultery? Carlotta tugged on her stretchy pink top, pulling it over her expanding waistline. Was it her fault he’d strayed? All those pounds she’d gained while taking fertility drugs.
Her gaze shifted to the white votive candle in the center of the table. “You brought me here on purpose. So I couldn’t make a scene. Controlling. That’s what you are, Jake.”
“C’mon, Carlotta. I’m a take charge kind of guy. That’s what you’ve always liked about me.” He reached for her hand, but she pulled it away. “Did like. Look. I know things have been rough with this infertility phase.”
Her nostrils flared. “Is that all this is to you? A rough patch you hope we’ll soon get over? Our life is not like one of your stories. You can’t edit and revise it to improve it. It doesn’t work that way.” Yesterday, her sister had voiced concerns about Jake being too controlling. Carlotta hadn’t agreed. Then. “Just yesterday,” she said and then shook her head. “Never mind. This. Is. It. I’ve had it.” She removed her linen napkin from her lap and tossed it next to her plate.
Jake cleared his throat and tugged at his collar.
Carlotta studied the expressions of the other patrons—the raised eyebrows, the hushed tones, forks paused in midair.
Jake grabbed her hands. “Come on, now. You don’t mean all of that.” He flashed his signature smile, albeit weakly.
Nice try, buddy.
Not even the orchestral music in the background could calm her nerves. Carlotta pulled back her hands and willed them to stop shaking. OK, so usually she didn’t mean it, but this time, she would follow through, prove to her sister that she wasn’t a…what was the term—co-dependent. Plenty of heroines in stories summoned the courage to do difficult things. She could do it, too. “I’m calling an attorney first thing in the morning, Jake.”
She clutched her purse and stood. Adrenaline surged inside her, and heat crept up her face. What were they looking at? Returning the stare of other patrons, she took a deep breath, reached inside her purse, and tossed a few bills on the table. “This should cover the tip. I’ll stay with my sister tonight. I’ll pick up my things tomorrow.” Amazing how easy it was to keep walking away from the table once she set her feet in motion. Carlotta exited the restaurant. Jake hadn’t followed her, hadn’t tried to stop her. He didn’t believe her. But he would once the divorce papers arrived.
Carlotta blew out a breath. So this was it for her and Jake. She clutched her cross necklace for strength. How would she break this to her family? They weren’t super spiritual, per se, but they were steeped in religious tradition. Divorce was pretty taboo. Then again, times were changing. Cousin Isabella had divorced. At least she had a child. Carlotta had a kitten. Better than nothing but not quite the same. It didn’t quench her desire to be a mother.
She went outside the restaurant and choked back a sob. Why did he have such power over her? Carlotta sniffled. She’d dated other guys, but Jake was her first true love. That was long ago. Back when he cherished her. Or maybe he didn’t mean it then either.
Carlotta stepped forward.
HONK. Screech.
Where had the car come from?
“Watch where you’re going,” the driver hollered and sped away.
Carlotta inhaled a deep breath. Pretend you’re a feisty character in a story. Just fake it. You can do this. When the light changed, she crossed the street, sat on a bench, and dialed the number on the seat. “Hello? Yes, I’m at the corner of Main and Fifth. I need a taxi ride.”
“We can send someone there in ten minutes,” a raspy voice answered.
“Thank you.” Carlotta hung up and dialed her sister. “Rosario, I did it.”
“Did what?”
“I’m leaving Jake. I’m calling a divorce attorney tomorrow. Can I stay at your place tonight?” She swiped a tear.
“It’s not like you can stay with him. I’ll leave the front light on. See you in a few. I’ll make some coffee. Oh, and be careful. There’s been a black cat in the neighborhood recently. You don’t need any more bad luck.”
Carlotta shook her head. Her sister and her superstitions. “And you’ll read about it in the papers, so you might as well know…” She softened her voice. “Ed Gorman is dead. I found his body earlier this week.”
“What?” her sister gasped. “You don’t think Pablo did it?” she whispered.
“No,” her voice caught a little, “but Jake gave his name to the police.”
“He did what?”
Carlotta quelled an urge to defend him. She didn’t need to do that anymore. “We’ll talk more once I get there.” An SUV honked at a minivan, startling her. She shifted her attention to laughter from across the street. Happy-looking couples walked together. Carlotta swiped at another tear.
She returned her phone to her purse. For once, Rosario wouldn’t suggest counseling. Rosario’s estranged husband, Pablo, had a drug problem. But this was completely different. Perhaps counseling worked for Rosario, but it wasn’t as though Mom’s addiction affected Carlotta. This thing with Jake. It was all on him. “I don’t need any help,” she mumbled to herself.
A cab stopped in front of her bench. Carlotta inhaled a deep breath, opened the cab door, and climbed inside. She slumped onto the seat and exhaled.
“Where to?” the cabbie asked.
Carlotta detected a southern drawl in the man’s voice. “Erie Avenue, 2747.”
The cabbie pulled away from the curb and headed toward the library.
Jake had said things had become mechanical. He wasn’t wrong. Maybe she was making a mistake.
As the vehicle continued down the street, Carlotta muttered. “What have I done?”
“Excuse me, ma’am?”
Carlotta shook her head. “Nothing. I’m fine. Just thinking out loud.” She shifted her gaze out the taxi window. A prostitute stood on a street corner. Carlotta’s shoulders tightened. Where would Jake spend tonight? She huffed. Probably in the arms of that woman from work. Had she driven him away by leaving? She reached for her cell phone. What if she called him and forced him to switch jobs? Then he couldn’t see what’s-her-face. “Could you take me back to the restaurant?”
“Did you leave something behind?” Her gaze met the cabbie’s stare in the rearview mirror.
Carlotta shifted her gaze to her purse. Don’t do this. He’s the problem. The only solution is to leave him. “Never mind. We don’t need to turn around.” That’s right. Keep moving.
