Page 16 of The Caretaker
Slipping into the boots I kept by the door and tightening my robe, I trudged the distance to him, snowflakes dampening my hair. Coming up beside him, I squeezed his shoulder in silent support. He reached up, holding my hand there before aiming tear-filled eyes at me. “She told me the truth,” he said shakily. “She told me the truth. She saw what it did to me, and she…”
“And she left anyway,” I finished for him, knowing where his thoughts had gone, because mine were there waiting. “And he left anyway too.” My fingers protested at the pressure he applied to them, but I willed my bones to absorb his pain, to hold up under it for just a while longer.
“Come back inside,” I said. “I’ll make us some tea.”
I turned the fire down under the tea kettle and excused myself to take a quick shower. Ten minutes later I was securing my damp hair in a bun and rummaging through my closet for a pair of sweats and a t-shirt Noon could change into. His pants were soaked from the knees down. It didn’t escape me that he wore the same suit from the charity ball, only now it was rumpled, likely from him sleeping in it for days.
I paused at the top of the landing, watching him fix the photo of Gavin that I’d placed face down. He then picked up the photo of Patrick, staring at it with a look of recognition then anger.
“You’ve seen him before,” I said, descending the stairs.
“At the museum, that night,” he said, looking over at me before setting down the frame. “I’d caught him staring at my wife. I thought nothing of it. She’s beautiful. Everyone stares at her.Istill stare at her,” he ended, as if he couldn’t comprehend why she’d need Patrick when he still loved and appreciated her, when nothing for him had changed. I held out the sweats that were at least two sizes too small for him.
“These were the best I could do,” I said, when he peered down at the bundle in my hands.
“Do they belong tohim?”
“No. I wouldn’t do that to you. They’re mine, but they’re both roomy on me, so hopefully you’ll be able to get into them.”
“Sorry,” he said, scratching a thumb over his brow and then jamming his fists into his pocket. “Thanks, but it’s not necessary. I’m gonna head out soon. Before the weather gets worse.”
The kettle whistled, and I set the clothing on the arm of the sofa before venturing into the kitchen. Noon sat on a stool at the island while I pulled two mugs from the cabinet along with a few ingredients for the tea.
“So, how many front doors have you nearly knocked down in your hunt for Patrick?” I asked as I filled the mugs with the steaming water.
“Around thirty. I’ve barely gotten any sleep. And I’ve never reacted as aggressively as I have today. I was at the end of my rope by the time I got here. You were last on my list. Sorry.”
Noon was a man of action, whereas I was one of deep contemplation and self-loathing. I slid him his tea and sat across from him. His size ate up the space, causing our knees to bump under the island. I had to crane my head up to meet his eyes, eyes weighed down by exhaustion, the skin beneath them stained purple.
“I got tested,” he said without buildup. “There’s a clinic not too far from my house. Maybe you should consider doing the same. You never know.”
“I’ll do that,” I said. It was on my list of things to do, especially since Patrick hadn’t been wearing a condom. He and I hadn’t had sex in a while, but who knew how long they’d been sleeping together unprotected. And who knew if there were other people he’d slept with besides me. Besidesus.Neither of them could be trusted. Since Noon had already gotten himself tested, I didn’t bother informing him of the danger his wife had put him in.
“This is good,” he said, like he hadn’t expected it to be. “I can count on one hand how many times I’ve had tea, and I’m pretty sure it was always cold and had the word “iced” in front of it.”
“It’s chamomile. My grandfather’s recipe.” I pushed a tin of tea biscuits toward him, and we sipped and munched in silence.
“What’s she like?” I asked, staring into my mug. I waited for him to tell me that it was none of my business, that I didn’t have a right to know. He said neither.
“Stacey’s smart and funny,” he started, and I flicked my gaze up to find that his eyes had softened on me. I needed this. For whatever reason, I needed to know what she had that I lacked, and Noon didn’t seem to judge me for it. “She’s spontaneous and loud. The life of any party.”
“I’m reserved,” I said, as if it were a strike against me. “I’d take a night in reading by the fire over attending a party.” Maybe that was it. Maybe I bored Patrick—at least maybe that was one of the reasons. If I were being honest with myself, there were signs of infidelity long before this affair was blown out of the water. Patrick leaving the room to take calls, working extra shifts at the hospital—or so he’d told me. Small signs, ones easy enough to ignore or that could be attributed to Gavin’s death,to my role in it. I should’ve taken steps to unearth the truth. Instead, I’d kept my head in the sand.
“Secretly, so would I,” he whispered. “I just wanted her to be happy, and for a long time she was, then she wasn’t, and it made me feel like a failure. But I never stopped loving her.Never,” he said, voice thick with emotion. His gaze held a plea, one I recognized. He wanted answers too.
“He’s a protector and a provider. A great friend.”He used to be all those things to me,I thought. “But he can be emotionally unavailable. Patrick would rather sweep a problem under the rug than talk at great length about it. We’re so opposite in that way. He says I’m too soft, weak-hearted. Maybe I am.”
“Don’t,” Noon said sharply, drawing me up a notch. “You’ve shown more strength in the short time that I’ve known you than they ever did. It takes strength to face your problems head-on instead of cheating and then running from them like a coward.”
That was exactly what they had done. Stacey and Patrick. They’d cheated and then ran from the consequences.
“Thank you,” I said, biting into my quivering bottom lip. Noon tugged it free, his fingers warm and soft. My lip shook uncontrollably now, and I thought I might break open under his stare.
“There you are,” he said, his smile wobbling. “Perfect.”
It was either keep talking or start sobbing, so I kept talking. “Our son died a year ago.” I stared through the patio sliding door to the in-ground pool that had since been cemented over. Noon followed my gaze.
“I was supposed to be paying attention, but I wasn’t,” I confessed in a small voice. “All I ever wanted was to be a father. I had to talk Patrick into it. We were still young, and he’d just started his residency at the hospital. We used a surrogate. We loved him. So much. And within the blink of an eye, he was gone. I’m so sorry,” I said emphatically, “because maybe if I hadn’tfractured my marriage with my carelessness, yours would have been spared.”
