Page 76 of A River of Crows

Caroline drove twenty miles per hour over the speed limit, praying that Jay hadn’t done the same. She wasn’t even sure what the name of the hotel was where he stayed. Jay said the company put him up wherever they got the best rate.

Simultaneous relief and dread filled Caroline when she spotted his truck five minutes outside of Tyler. She followed him, being careful to stay far enough back where he wouldn’t notice her in his rearview mirror. Once in town, he turned down a road called Brookhaven Drive, a neighborhood of two-car driveways, piles of raked leaves, and an occasional campaign sign.

Jay wasn’t going to a hotel. Caroline’s car was suddenly stifling. She turned off the heater and cranked down her window, letting in the cool fall air that smelled of pumpkins and chimney smoke.

There had to be a reasonable explanation. Please, she thought. Be lost. Be visiting your boss. Be doing anything but seeing Anna Elliott and your son. Your son. You have a son who’s not Ridge.

Jay pulled into one of those two-car driveways. Caroline parked a few houses down and across the street, glad at least to be no longer moving. She needed to be still, needed her stomach to settle.

Even with the window down, the car was too hot, and Caroline felt trapped. She opened her door and stood, watching Jay retrieve his suitcase from the truck's bed. The suitcase she’d packed full of underwear she’d washed. A gust of wind swept by. Secrets and fall leaves swirled around her.

Seconds later, the screen door of the house on Brookhaven Drive flung open. A little red-haired girl ran out and straight for Jay’s arms. “Daddy!”

The wind carried the word. Jay dropped his suitcase and fell to his knees, letting the child rush into his arms. Caroline’s own knees loosened, and she grabbed her door for support.

Like passing a terrible car accident, she didn’t want to watch, but she couldn’t turn away. Two boys came out. One looked to be Ridge’s age, one older. Jay put an arm around each of them and squeezed. “Where’s your mother?” Caroline heard him ask.

On cue, a short woman with strawberry blonde curls sashayed out the door and into Jay’s arms. She spoke, but her voice was too soft. Caroline couldn’t make out the words. But Jay was loud. He was always so damn loud.

“I missed you, darlin’,” he said, then lifted her off the ground and right out of her white high heels before pressing his lips against hers.

“Ew!” The little girl screamed, charging against Jay from behind. “Stop!”

Caroline lowered herself back into the car, no longer able to stand. Yes, stop, stop. Please, God, stop.

They eventually did. Jay scooped the little girl onto his shoulders and took the woman’s hand. The older boy grabbed the suitcase, and they all walked inside together—closing out the dark night, the chilly air, and the woman watching from across the street.

Caroline sobbed the entire way home. Sobbed and screamed. Screams that came from somewhere deep inside of her. Some dark place she didn’t even know existed.

Anna Elliott. The name clanged inside Caroline’s head. But then, realization struck her. It probably wasn’t Anna Elliott, anymore. It was probably Anna Hadfield. After ten minutes of sitting in her car, Caroline had unstuck herself and driven by the house. “Hadfield Family” boasted the carved sign mounted to the yellow brick. The porch light above it acted as a spotlight, illuminating it in an almost holy glow. Caroline fantasized about grabbing a rock and shattering the porch light. That sign should be in the shadows, not her. But she had no strength left in her body. No strength to get out of the car, no strength to pick up a rock, no strength to confront them.

Caroline thought again about the boys. The younger had to be Bradley. The girl was a few years younger. Seven or eight? Caroline hadn’t gotten a good look at the other boy. He was older than Bradley, that much she could tell by his height, but how much older?

Not that it mattered much either way, but if he was older than Sloan, that meant Anna was Jay’s wife before he met Caroline.

If Jay had a wife, Caroline was his mistress. She’d pursued nothing further than friendship with Frank Brewer because she didn’t want to be the other woman. But she already was. She’d always been Jay’s other woman.

Caroline didn’t remember getting home. Didn’t remember making the turns or stopping at traffic lights. She wasn’t even sure how long she’d been sitting in the driveway until her own porch light came on, and Doreen Dawson stepped outside.

There was no hiding that she’d been crying, but Caroline wiped her eyes anyway. As soon as she stepped out of the car, Doreen jogged toward her. “Caroline, are you okay? What happened?”

Caroline started crying again. It was cruel how tears never ran out. How the body was capable of producing them forever and ever and ever. “Jay and I just got into a silly fight. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Doreen gave an understanding nod. “Men can be damn fools, can’t they?”

Caroline nodded, too, even though she knew she had been the damn fool.

“The kids fell asleep about ten minutes ago. Oh, and Ridge slipped in the kitchen. Running in his socks. He’s fine but is gonna wake up with some bruises.”

Caroline rubbed her head. “That boy. I’ve told him to stop running on the floor after I wax it. And I’m sorry I got home so late. Noah can stay the night if he’s already asleep.”

“It’s fine, honey. He’s just watching TV. We’ll be home in time for him to get plenty of sleep. You try to get some too. Call me tomorrow and let me know you’re alright.”

As soon as Doreen and Noah left, Caroline checked on the kids. Sloan had burrowed under her quilts, and Ridge was snoring gently. Her poor babies. Thanks to their father, life as they knew it was ending.

Caroline wanted a drink. Something hard that would make her stomach burn like her throat, but she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. She needed to get some food inside her so she could drink herself to sleep without throwing it all up.

She entered the pantry and pulled the cold metal chain attached to the lightbulb. The light clicked on, illuminating Caroline’s perfect pantry just as the porch light had illuminated that Hadfield Family sign. She looked around the orderly storeroom. A place for everything and everything in its place. That’s something her mother had always said about her own pantry when Caroline was growing up. Caroline thought it was stupid to care about something like that, but as soon as she became a mom, she surprised herself by following in her own mother’s sensible heels. There was a lot about domestic life that didn’t come naturally for Caroline, but her mother had taught her how to cook, and by cooking, Caroline could nurture her family. She often felt like a fraud, but food was a need she could meet. And so, she attended Tupperware parties and bought the latest storage containers. She actually asked Jay for a label maker for Christmas back in ’78. She labeled and arranged, then rearranged, when she decided that perhaps the cereal should be on the low shelf because when the children grew older, they would need to reach it.

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