The Sunshine Potluck Society, page 10
He sighed and ran his fingers through his grey hair. “Here we go. Back to this same old argument. I don’t do enough around the house. Well, I work for a living, Gwen! You know that. You chose to stay home with the kids. And I’ve provided a very nice life for us. Don’t you think?”
Her breath caught in her throat. He’d raised his voice to yell at her. She wanted to leave and hide in her room. “Yes, you’ve done very well. You’re a good provider and a good father. I don’t think that means I should never speak up about anything that bothers me, though.”
“So, now you’re accusing me of silencing you? Not letting you speak?” He stood to his feet. “I don’t know what to say, Gwen. This is coming out of nowhere. All these accusations.”
“I didn’t accuse you, Duncan,” she said, wringing her hands together. “Just that you don’t show me a lot of appreciation for all I do around here. The kids don’t either. They assume I’ll watch the grandchildren for them—they don’t ask. And they never say thank you. I’m tired. I raised four kids. And now I would like to have some fun. I love my grandkids, but I don’t want to be their primary carer. I want to enjoy time with them, spoil them, feed them lollies and then go home. I want to travel and see the world. We always said we’d do that and we never have. You’ve travelled for business, but not with me. You’re always gone playing golf, working, spending time at the gym or with friends. It feels as though I’m an afterthought.”
He shook his head. “Where is all of this coming from? No one is stopping you from doing anything, Gwen. If you want to travel, then do it.”
“On my own?” she asked.
He laughed. “I’m busy. I have work to do. I can’t go flitting off around the world at the drop of a hat. But you can. So go on. Do it.”
He stomped out of the room. She watched him go, a lump growing in her throat. That hadn’t gone the way she thought it would. He completely misunderstood what she was saying. His defensiveness was the reason she struggled to share things with him. It always went like that—she’d share a concern, and he’d get angry and upset, assuming she was criticising him. Then the conversation would end with him storming out and nothing resolved. It was why she generally preferred to bury her feelings and wear a smile on her face instead. Conflict never got her anywhere. And now she felt even worse than she had before.
Chapter Twenty
The church bells rang out loud and clear, a happy melody under the glare of the midday sun. Debbie cupped a hand over her eyes to cut the glare and stared out at the sparkling water over the bay.
“It’s a beautiful day,” she said.
“Church was lovely,” Gwen agreed. “I’m glad we made the effort, even though my ankle is aching a little bit from all the standing.”
“I told you to sit,” Debbie admonished her with a gentle pat on the shoulder.
“I know, but I wanted to stand with everyone else. The music was so uplifting.”
Church in Sunshine each Sunday was one of Debbie’s favourite places in the world. She left the service feeling refreshed and fulfilled, ready to tackle another week. Her husband, Caleb, stood by the church doors in a huddle with a group of his friends. All of them wore button-down shirts and slacks, their hair neatly combed. She’d always liked the way Caleb looked when he wore his Sunday best. So handsome and well groomed, without the stuffiness of the suits he donned on weekdays.
Joanna made her way carefully and slowly down the steps to join them.
“I’m so proud of you for coming today,” Gwen said. “How did you go?”
“I feel good, actually,” Joanna replied. “I’ve been getting out of the house more and more lately. And the anxiety isn’t as bad as it was. I feel like I’m finally getting somewhere. My therapist has been helping me find techniques to manage my stress levels.”
“Well, it’s working. You’re doing great,” Debbie replied. She was so impressed with how much Joanna had changed in recent weeks. She’d known her a long time, and this was the most comfortable she’d seen her friend outdoors in years. The fire at the restaurant had been a turning point in her life, one she’d never fully recovered from. Until now. It seemed she was making progress towards healing.
“Let’s find a seat. I don’t know how long the men will be.” Debbie led Gwen and Joanna over to a park bench, and the three of them sat side by side.
Gwen sighed. “That’s better. Is this okay for you, Jo?”
“You should probably be at home resting,” Joanna said. “And yes, it’s challenging for me to sit out here in the open like this. I’m feeling a little dizzy. But it’s good for me to push myself. That’s how I improve.”
“You’re amazing, honey. I’m so happy for you. And I don’t want to be at home. It’s boring at home. Besides, Duncan and I had a big fight.”
“What about?” Joanna asked.
“I mentioned that I felt like I wasn’t appreciated. He didn’t much like it. Same thing that always happens—he got defensive and yelled at me then left. He didn’t come home until late. We didn’t really say much to each other this morning. He’s pretending it didn’t happen, but he’s also not speaking to me.”
“I’m so sorry, honey,” Debbie said. “That sounds awful.”
“It was awful. But it’s also long overdue. I should’ve spoken up years ago. And now I may have left it too late. He can’t hear me, and there’s such a big divide between the two of us. I don’t think I even realised it was there until now.”
“Do you think you can come back from this?” Debbie asked.
Gwen shook her head. “I don’t know. I hope so. But I know I need time. And there’s so much more we have to say to one another. I don’t know how we do that when he reacts the way he does.”
“Have you considered counselling?” Joanna asked.
“I’ve honestly never thought about it. I didn’t think we needed it. I believed we had a good marriage. But now I know that I was simply ignoring the issues. We haven’t had a real conversation in so long, I can barely remember it. We don’t connect with one another—we simply co-exist. It didn’t used to be like this. I don’t know if it’s normal or if there’s something very wrong.”
Joanna patted her hand in silence.
Debbie’s throat tightened. She knew exactly what Gwen was talking about. She was in a similar place. Maybe it was the natural progression for a relationship. “I don’t think it’s how things should be, but I do think it happens so easily. Caleb and I haven’t had a real connection in a long time either. I don’t really know what to do. But perhaps Joanna is right. Maybe we all need couples therapy.”
“Have you ever looked at his phone or computer? Checked his emails or phone log?” Joanna asked. “I never did that myself, but I’ve heard of women doing this. It might answer some questions for you without having to confront him.”
Gwen grunted. “Are you joking?”
“A little…but it’s still not a terrible idea. Is it?”
“It’s a terrible idea,” Gwen countered with a laugh. “Spying on your husband is the last resort.”
“I’m probably in last-resort territory,” Debbie admitted.
“You’re right. I suppose I could take a look at his phone or emails. Maybe there’s something there from the mystery perfume lady.” Gwen chewed on her lower lip.
“If she even exists,” Debbie said.
“Right. If she’s real.”
“You should do it,” Joanna said. “You need to know. You’re sabotaging your relationship because you think he’s been unfaithful. Maybe he hasn’t been. If you looked at his devices, you might be able to figure it out and have some certainty there before you confront him over it.”
“I don’t know,” Gwen said. “What do you think, Debbie? Would you do it?”
Debbie inhaled a slow breath. “Maybe. Who am I to say? I can’t even get my husband to speak to me about anything real. In fact, I could check right now. I have both our phone logs, and I also have the login to Caleb’s email. He gave it to me years ago. I’ve never checked it because I didn’t have a reason to.”
“Take a look now, then,” Gwen said, sitting up straight. “If you can do it, then I might work up the courage.”
“I don’t know about this,” Joanna said. “I was partially joking. But now that you’re talking about doing it, I have a bad feeling.”
Debbie laughed. “This was your idea. You can’t back out now.”
Joanna bit down on her lip.
Debbie pulled her phone out of her purse and logged onto Caleb’s email. She checked the inbox, the archive and deleted files. There was nothing there. Nothing that stood out. Everything was either junk mail or work related, plus a few family emails from his brothers and cousins.
“There’s nothing in his email. Nothing I can see immediately, anyway.”
Joanna and Gwen watched over her shoulders.
“If he’s cheating on you, he’s very good at hiding his tracks. His email inbox is even more boring than mine,” Joanna said.
“All right, let’s take a look at the phone log. I can’t see his messages, but I can tell what numbers he’s interacting with.” Debbie pulled up the log and scrolled through the list. “That’s his office number, those are his colleagues, that’s his brother, another brother, my number, the mechanic’s…” She recognised the numbers since they hadn’t changed for years, and her husband always interacted with the same people. His call log confirmed what she’d believed about him forever—he was a creature of habit and loyal relationships. He had no one new in his life. She’d been worried for no reason.
She leaned back on the bench. “He’s not cheating.” She exhaled a long, slow breath. “What a relief.”
“He’s a good man,” Gwen said. “I’ve always thought so.”
“What’s going on with him, then?” Joanna asked. “Why is he so withdrawn?”
“I don’t know. But it’s been years. I thought it would pass, but it hasn’t. It’s only gotten worse.”
“You’ve got to talk to him,” Gwen said.
“I feel terrible now,” Debbie replied with a frown. “I invaded his privacy. I snooped. I’m not that kind of wife. I never do things like that.”
“You were worried about him,” Gwen said. “And it helped relieve your concerns. Now you can speak to him without being fearful that something terrible is going on.”
“Don’t feel bad about it,” Joanna said. “It was my idea. I pushed you to do it.”
“I shouldn’t have…” Debbie rubbed her hands over her face. “Ugh. I’ve got to tell him.”
“Well, I’m glad you did it,” Gwen said. “You’ve given me the courage to do the same. Although I don’t have access to his accounts, so I’ll have to find another way.”
“Just talk to him,” Debbie replied. “I’m sure you’ll find that you have nothing to be worried about as well. Duncan loves you.”
“I know he does,” Gwen said. “But he’s so difficult to talk to. I’m not sure how to get through to him or how to get the truth out of him.”
“Here they come,” Joanna said in a whisper.
The men were all headed their way. Duncan, Caleb and Chris, Joanna’s neighbour, all walked side by side with Aaron, who was telling them something in a very animated voice.
“We should all go out to lunch,” Joanna said.
Debbie yawned. “I can’t. Sorry, hon. I’ve got to get back to the apartment. Work tomorrow is going to be hectic, and there are some things I have to take care of before then.”
“I’m feeling worn out,” Gwen replied. “Next time?”
“Okay, next time,” Joanna said.
Debbie stood and smiled at Caleb, who reached out his hand to squeeze her arm.
“Ready to go home?” he asked.
She felt instant relief at his touch. “Yes, I’m ready. Bye, ladies.”
As they walked away, she slipped her hand into Caleb’s, and he closed his grip around it. Her throat ached with unshed tears. The memory of his emails and phone log flitted through her thoughts. She felt immediate guilt but at the same time, relief that he was the man she thought he was and had nothing to hide.
Maybe counselling was all they needed. A better way to communicate with one another. Whatever it was, she should move quickly. She didn’t want this barrier between them anymore; it had become a constant source of anxiety. She wanted their relationship to go back to being how it had been when they were first married—open, loving and passionate. But how would they get back to that place?
Chapter Twenty-One
With a slotted spoon, Joanna raised the golden samosa out of the hot oil and set them on paper towels to drain. They looked perfect. These were keema samosa, filled with minced mutton, yoghurt and spices. She’d also made several batches of vegetarian samosa. There were plates of samosa all over the kitchen bench. Perhaps she’d gone a bit overboard. But she wanted to get the recipe just right for inclusion in their book. And she wasn’t sure yet which version to use.
Should she go with the meat-based delicacy? Or the vegetarian one? Peas or no peas?
With a frown, she reached for one of the golden-brown pastries and plucked it open with her fingertips.
“Ouch!”
“You okay?” Emily asked as she walked into the kitchen. “Wow, it smells amazing in here.”
“I burned my fingers, but I’m fine. I need to know which of these to include in the book. Can you do some taste testing and tell me what you think?”
Emily’s long brown hair swung from a high ponytail down her bare back. She wore a strapless summer dress with a strapless bikini underneath. The two of them had gone swimming together earlier as part of Joanna’s physical therapy. Now they were working on the recipe book.
Emily reached for a plate and filled it with a variety of pastries. Then she took bites out of each.
“I like the vegetarian one with peas.”
“Me too, I think. I should get one more opinion, though, before I decide.”
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out and held it to her ear. “Yes, this is Joanna.”
“Good afternoon, Joanna. It’s Bobbie.”
“Oh, hi, Bobbie. How are you?” Bobbie was her editor. They’d worked together for over ten years now. Joanna had a soft spot for the woman who helped her meet her deadlines and gave feedback on her recipes. She always did it with so much grace and flair. She was good at her job and kind as well, which was a rare combination.
“I’m fine, thanks. I hope you’re working hard on the Sunshine Potluck Society recipes.”
Joanna grinned. “Of course. I’m finalising the samosa right now as we speak.”
“Glad to hear it because I need the final draft from you by Friday. Do you think you can manage it?”
“Friday?” Joanna’s heart skipped a beat. That was too soon. They weren’t close to being finished. She hadn’t even run the final content by the other ladies yet. Debbie hadn’t sent through the layout for the photographs. Gwen was so busy with the Surf Club fundraiser and everything else going on in her life, she hadn’t responded to Joanna’s repeated requests for approval of the decor. And Joanna and Emily still had about twenty pages’ worth of recipes and anecdotes to finalise. “Sure, Friday is good. We can manage.” She always said yes to her editor, even when she wasn’t feeling confident at all.
When she hung up the phone, Emily stared at her wide-eyed. “What about Friday?”
“She needs the final draft by then.”
Emily gaped. “What? We can’t do that. We’re not even close.”
“We have to,” Joanna said. “That’s the deadline they’re giving us, and they have good reason. There’s an entire team of people who need to do their part after us, and they need time to do that.”
“I’ll call Debbie and Gwen to make sure they’re ready to send through their content.”
“You do that. I’m going to see if Chris can help me decide which samosa recipe we should include.”
Joanna carried a plate piled high with pastries out the front door and headed across the yard and around the fence into Chris’s yard. As she did so, she noticed that the panic that rose up her spine was muted. It wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been in the past. All of her hard work was paying off. She could cry, but then she’d have to explain her tears to Chris. So instead, she smiled to herself and blinked her eyes a few times, then knocked on his door.
He answered with a confused look on his face. “Well, hello. I’m not used to seeing you at my front door.” He opened it and ushered her inside. “What a pleasant surprise.”
“I brought samosa,” she said.
“Okay. That sounds interesting.”
“It’s an Indian food, quite delicious. I think you’ll like it.”
“Not spicy, is it?” He led her to the kitchen, and she put the plate down on the bench. It was a small but tidy kitchen with a grey marble benchtop. The appliances were white, and there was a round white kitchen table by a set of bay windows that looked out over his back garden.
“No, it’s not spicy. Maybe a little bit of a kick. But nothing to worry about. You have a lovely house,” Joanna said.
“You haven’t been inside before?” Chris asked.
“It was a long time ago. I think you’ve renovated since then.”
“Oh, yes, that’s right,” he replied. “I redid the entire kitchen, both bathrooms and painted. It’s made a big difference to have so much white. Really opens the place up.”
“I agree. It looks lovely.”
“Would you like a cup of tea?”
She nodded. “Thank you. That would be wonderful.”
“I’m so glad you came to visit me. I was just about to have some tea myself, and now I have company.”
