Have you won the lottery or are bill collectors trying to find you?”
Rachelle laughed and closed the book she had been reading aloud to Aunt Irene. “Neither, Auntie. This must be ‘Catch Up with Rachelle Day,’ though.”
She had ordered J. California Cooper’s latest short story collection from an online bookstore, and when it arrived three mornings ago, she pulled it out when she finished reading from the Psalms.
Aunt Irene loved the stories. She and Rachelle discussed the characters and chatted about what they would do if they were in those fictional situations.
It was becoming an enjoyable part of the morning routine for both of them, but today, the incessant ringing of Rachelle’s cell phone had distracted them. She hadn’t picked up every call, but the few people she had chatted with briefly reminded her of her full life back in Houston.
“Every day when I pass by your place and see the wrought iron gates closed, I wonder if you’re still living there,” said Kit Basque, her neighbor and tennis partner. “Is everything still alright in paradise, dahling? That handsome man hasn’t locked you out, has he?”
Her tinkling laughter was meant to convey that the question was a joke, but Rachelle had long been able to see the real Kit. Whatever she decided about her future, this woman would be the last to know.
“Sorry, you can’t get rid of me that easily,” Rachelle responded with her own lighthearted chuckle. “Get your tennis game together. I’ll be home soon.”
Shelley, Trina, and Jade called next and put her on speakerphone. They sat in the back of a limo, traveling home from the airport, and were calling from Jade’s cell.
“Barbados was fabu, girl!” Shelley said. “You don’t know what you missed!”
“We’ll send you pictures, though, so you can see,” Jade chimed in. “Next time don’t tell us no! Instead of having fun with your girls, you’re down there in that lifeless little town, where cable TV is probably the biggest form of entertainment. What are you doing anyway? Eating everything in sight and getting fat?”
The three women giggled.
“Actually,” Rachelle said, “I am doing a lot of cooking. My aunt was injured in a car accident and I’m taking care of her.”
“Girl, isn’t that what home health aides are for?” Trina said. “Get her some help so you can come home! I know you probably need another makeover after being down there. You disappeared from Houston before we left for our cruise. We’re back and you’re still gone!”
Rachelle glanced at Aunt Irene, who was occupying herself with the book’s jacket while she waited for the call to end. Her life just a few hours away seemed so distant now. She hadn’t mentioned her friend Jillian to the three of them, and listening to them now, she realized they wouldn’t understand.
Drinks and a massage would have been their prescription—one she had happily adhered to for years. Now, she wasn’t so sure that would satisfy her. She was beginning to question in which world she fit.
“Ladies, I’ve got to run,” Rachelle said. “I was right in the middle of something with my aunt. I’ll be home soon and promise to call so we can get together, okay? I’m glad the trip was wonderful!”
She hung up just in time for her housekeeper Helen’s ring.
“Hey, Mrs. Covington,” she said. “Just touching base to let you know that nothing important has come in the mail. House is still spic and span from last week, since no one has been home.”
Rachelle wondered if she was hinting for another week of paid vacation.
“I’m sure it is still clean,” Rachelle said. “Probably very little to do without the family underfoot, huh? Actually, though, it’s nice to have you there, Helen, just so the neighbors won’t think the place has been abandoned. Thanks for stopping by a few times during the week.”
The next time the phone rang, Aunt Irene chuckled and closed the book. She lay back in the bed and closed her eyes while Rachelle took a call from her kids.
“Mommy, tell Gram that you let us have more than two cookies for dessert sometimes.”
Rachelle sighed and shook her head. When it got down to nitpicky things like the number of cookies one could have, the summer vacation was wearing thin. Then again, Rachelle knew how controlling her mother could be. About everything.
“Put Gram on the phone,” she told Taryn.
“Hey, Mom,” Rachelle said. “What’s the latest drama?” She’d be able to assess the weight to give the phone call based on her mother’s response.
“This little girl does not need any cookies, let alone three,” Rita Mitchell said. She lowered her voice, “I know her little pudgy self has gained five pounds since she’s been here, and I haven’t been letting her eat more than one serving of anything.”
Rachelle wanted to blow, but already knew how ineffective that would be. She took a deep breath and measured her words. “Mom, Taryn is eight years old,” she said. “Eight! Not eighteen. Please don’t restrict my child’s diet. She is a growing girl. I’m sure you are providing her with healthy meals, so let her have more, within reasonable limits, okay?”
She wished she could see her mother’s face, but knew it was clouded with indignation.
“That’s why all of these children have an obesity problem today,” Rita Mitchell said. “Parents can’t tell them no. I never let you have too many sweets or soda or stuff like that.”
“There were a lot of things you didn’t let me do,” Rachelle said. “Too many, in fact.”
Aunt Irene opened her eyes and raised an eyebrow. Rachelle noticed and decided to end the call.
“Mom, you do what you think is best,” she said. “Just remember that they’re kids. I’ll call later tonight to check on them.”
Rachelle hung up, turned back to Aunt Irene, and picked up the book. “Mom said to tell you hello and she hopes you’re feeling better.”
She resumed reading and made it to the end of the section before another call came through. She didn’t recognize this number, though, and decided to ignore it.
“Go on and take your calls, Rachelle,” Aunt Irene said. “I can’t go anywhere; I’ve got all afternoon to finish the story and chat about it.”
Still, since she wasn’t familiar with the number, she let the call roll into voice mail.
Seconds later, a light flashed, indicating that she had a message. Her patience was wearing thin as she punched in her voice mail password.
She stopped breathing as she listened.
“Rachelle, bet you didn’t expect to hear from me,” the voice said. “Just wanted to let you know that I’m here in Africa with your hubby, making sure he gets all of his safari needs met, just like I always do. And I do mean all of them. Hope you’re enjoying the weather in Texas.”
The woman hadn’t left her name, but she didn’t have to. Rachelle knew Veronica’s voice.
Rachelle clutched the book in her lap and stared out of the window. Her thoughts tripped over each other.
So it was true—Gabe was having an affair and Veronica was his mistress. How long had this been going on? She had suspected something, but she wanted to be wrong. Even after her talk with Aunt Melba, she had dismissed her suspicions as paranoia. But maybe this call wasn’t legitimate. Veronica could simply be trying to rattle her. Would Gabe really be bold enough to take his girlfriend on a Christian mission trip?
Aunt Irene had been right all along. Gabe was a selfish, self-centered man, and there wasn’t anything she could do to change him. If he really had stepped out on her, and if she had any shred of self-respect, there didn’t seem to be any more reason to even try to make it work.