“Did you think he would?”
Lulu shrugged. “I just thought I’d check.”
About twenty minutes later, we pulled up in front of 104 Cozy Glenn Lane. The house was located in a leafy historic neighborhood near the city center. My heart thumping, I stared at the quaint white Victorian with cedar shake siding and a wide front porch. It wasn’t big, but it had character, which is more than you could say about our tract home in Northern Virginia where all the houses looked alike.
“It’s pretty,” Lulu said.
“Ali didn’t like Victorians. He said they looked too old-fashioned.”
“Ali didn’t live in it.” It was what my sister didn’t say that permeated the air.
“Why don’t you just come out and say what you’re thinking?” My words were knife sharp. For the first time, I gave voice to an unthinkable possibility. “You suspect that Ali has a secret girlfriend in there, don’t you?”
I turned away to study the house’s waist-high spiked black iron fence because I couldn’t stand to see the expression on her face. The sympathy, the worry, the concern that she was dealing with a fool in denial.
Was I a fool in denial? I shook my head against the thought. There was no way that Ali was sneaking around behind my back, committing the ultimate betrayal. It just wasn’t who he was.
But then again, what did I know? I was never suspicious when Ali worked late. Never checked up on him or went through his phone. Having never dated before, I had zero idea what signs of cheating to look for. My inexperience put me at a serious disadvantage. Ali had had relationships before marriage. Me? I was totally clueless.
“I don’t know what’s going on.” Lulu chose her words carefully. “But whatever it is probably isn’t good. Otherwise, Ali wouldn’t have kept it a secret.”
“You knew how he was.” I swung my head back to look at her. “How can you think the worst?”
“Ali was a great guy. But he was also very reserved. He didn’t talk much.”
“And that makes him a lying cheater?” I snapped.
“All I’m saying is that your husband wasn’t exactly an open book. And don’t get mad at me.” Her face reddened. “I’m not the one who bought a secret house.”
Tears stung my eyes. What had Ali done? Why was I hundreds of miles from home parked in front of a cute house that he bought withouttelling me? I reached for my insulated water bottle and took a gulp to keep from crying.
“What do you want to do?” Lulu asked in a more conciliatory tone.
I wanted to drive away and keep going until I arrived back in a world where my husband was still alive. I took a deep breath. “Well, we didn’t drive almost five hours to sit in the car and stare at the place. I guess I have to knock on the door.”
“What will you say when they answer?”
I swung my car door open. “I have no idea.”
Lulu shut off the engine. “I’m coming with you.” I felt a stab of gratitude to have a fierce sister who never let me down. Friends like Rula and Nicki may have drifted away after Ali died, but Lulu was steadfast.
My legs were like sandbags as I approached the fence, walking through the open gate, down the smooth stone walkway lined by bushes of spiked purple flowers. On the porch, outdoor furniture, dark wood with plush white cushions and tasteful throw pillows, was arranged on a patterned rug.
I’d envisioned this house in my head, my mind keeping it at a safe distance. But seeing it in person, verifying its existence, put every cell in my body on alert. Someone had made this house a home. A living, breathing person with apparent good taste lived here. My mind desperately grasped on to the hope that there was a good explanation for the existence of this house with an obvious feminine touch.
I wanted nothing more than for Ali to put his arms around me and reassure me that everything was OK. He’d been my safety net for more than half my life. My reason for feeling secure in the world. Who would catch me now?
“Ready?” Lulu prompted softly as I stood, unmoving, in front of the door.
No.But I forced myself to knock anyway. My heart beating hard, I rang the doorbell too. We waited without speaking. All I could hear was the sound of my shallow, rapid breathing. No answer. I rang thedoorbell several more times and was disappointed, and relieved, when no one answered.
“Either no one’s home or they aren’t answering on purpose,” Lulu said.
It was no use peering through the front windows facing the street, because the curtains were closed. I started down the porch stairs.
Lulu followed. “Where are we going?”
“To the back.” I was desperate to see inside, as if that would give me insight into what was going on. Wooden privacy screens enclosed the back deck, which was high aboveground. I ran up the steps, but there was a door that I couldn’t see through or over.
