Triplets Under the Tree

When the storm passed, she peeked up at his blank expression. “Where did you come from? I didn’t think you were home.”

“I just got back,” he said gruffly. “I...heard you and I couldn’t stay away. I know you can take care of yourself, but I needed to check on you. Don’t say I should have left you alone and let you cry because that was not going to happen.”

“It’s okay. I’m glad you found me.”

“I doubt that’s true when I’m the reason you’re crying.”

His arms dropped away and she missed them, almost calling out for him to encompass her again with that blanket of serenity. But she didn’t. There was still so much unsaid between them. So much swirling through her heart that she could hardly think.

She shook her head. “Not this time. Vanessa—” her deep breath fractured on another half sob “—was sleeping with her costar. Mark—”

“Van Allsberg.” Antonio’s expression wavered between outrage and bleak resignation. “I remember now. I didn’t until you said his name. I almost got in the car to drive to his house and take him apart for touching my wife. How did you find out?” he asked quietly as he sat back on his heels.

“She wrote in a journal.” Bitterness laced her tone involuntarily. Vanessa had been very free with information when the page was her only audience. “I read it. It was illuminating.”

Caitlyn’s chest hurt as she watched the pain filter through his entire body anew, as if he was experiencing it for the first time. And perhaps amnesia was like that, continually forcing Antonio to relive events he should have been able to put behind him. Distance didn’t exist for him the way it did for other people, who could grow numb to the pain—or deal with it—over time.

Unwittingly, she’d forced him to do the same by jumping on the self-righteous bandwagon, lambasting him for an affair that had happened a long time ago when in reality, she’d known nothing of the difficulties in his marriage. She’d been judge, jury and executioner without all of the facts.

She stared at the exposed beams of the ceiling until she thought she could talk without crying. “Her affair was your punishment for daring to express your interest in fighting again.”

“I... It was?” Frustration knitted his features into an unrecognizable state. “I thought...”

His anguish ripped through her, and before she could list the hundreds of reasons why it was a bad idea, she grabbed his hand, holding it tightly in hers as if she could communicate all her angst through that small bit of contact.

“You made mistakes, Antonio. But there were extenuating circumstances.”

It didn’t negate the sacredness of marriage vows, but it did throw a lot of light on how Antonio’s choices had come about.

“That’s no excuse,” he bit out savagely. “There is no excuse. That’s why I can’t forgive myself.”

That speared through her gut and left a gaping wound in its wake.

His distress wasn’t faked. Cautiously, she searched his face, his body language, and the truth was there in every fiber of his being. He clearly didn’t think the affair was okay now, despite having thought differently back then.

Not only had the affair happened a long time ago, she’d refused to take into account that Antonio wasn’t the same person he’d been while married to her sister. As many times as she’d noted he was different, in this, she’d convicted him of being the same.

Amnesia had taken pieces of his memory, and perhaps what was left had reshaped him. Could she find a way to trust the Antonio who had returned to her from the grave and allow the old one to stay buried?

“Antonio.” He didn’t look at her, but she went on anyway. “You should know something. She said you talked her into going to Thailand as a way to reconnect. You wanted to try again, just the two of you.”

He nodded. “I don’t remember. But I’m glad that Vanessa died knowing that I was committed to her.”

That gelled with the Antonio she’d always known. A man who valued commitment, who despite the rockiness of his marriage had wanted to try again. “I’m sorry I dredged up all of this pain again.”

He huffed out an unamused half laugh, scrubbing his face with his free hand. “You don’t have to apologize. I remember so little about Vanessa in the first place. Hell, practically everything I know is from things you’ve told me. So the fairy tale you painted wasn’t true. That’s actually easier to deal with than the reverse.”