Keeping Score

Marilyn had been right. She wasn’t suited to a marriage in the media spotlight. He’d been wrong to expect her to change.

19

If Marilyn had listened to one of the messages Andrea had left Monday morning, perhaps the reporter wouldn’t have shown up on her doorstep that afternoon. Marilyn dried her nose with the ragged facial tissue in her fist. She’d wanted to be left alone with her heartache, but obviously the reporter couldn’t be ignored. She opened the door and stepped back to let in her guest.

Andrea began speaking the moment she crossed the threshold. “I’m sorry to just show up on your doorstep, but you weren’t answering your phone.” She turned to face Marilyn. “I know ... What’s happened?”

Marilyn shook her head. Her face crumbled and she began to cry. Again. “Rick left me.” The words burned her throat.

“Oh, no.”

Maybe it was Andrea’s caring embrace. Or maybe it was her soothing voice. Whatever the trigger, Marilyn found herself crying even harder than she had last night. They were deep sobs that wracked every muscle in her body as they were torn from her soul. Her eyes were too swollen to see. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t speak. She could barely move.

Some minutes later, Marilyn found herself sitting beside Andrea on her thick coffee-colored sofa. “I’m sorry. I’ve been crying all morning.”

“There’s no need to apologize. That explains why you weren’t answering your phone.” Andrea dug into her large brown purse and produced a travel packet of facial tissues. “You can have those.”

Marilyn accepted the gift with unsteady hands. “Thank you.”

“When did Rick leave?”

Marilyn’s head felt as though it was filled to bursting with foam. “Yesterday.” She took several quavering breaths. “He didn’t even unpack. He came home Sunday morning. We had an argument. He picked up his bag and left.”

Andrea was silent for several moments. “Did you argue about Jordan Hyatt?”

Marilyn wiped her nose, then pulled another tissue from the small, soft packet. When would her crying end? “How did you know?”

“I saw her interview on the local sports show Saturday night as well. I was shocked.”

“You were shocked? I’m his wife.” Righteous indignation stemmed her tears. Marilyn surged from the sofa to wander the family room.

“You don’t believe Rick slept with her, do you?” Andrea’s question carried from behind Marilyn.

“No, but I haven’t told anyone about Rick’s tattoo. Neither has he. So how would Jordan Hyatt know about it? Who could have told her? Whoever it is, that person is deliberately trying to destroy our marriage.”

Marilyn strode from the room.

Andrea’s footsteps hurried after her. “Where are you going?”

Marilyn crossed into the kitchen and marched to the refrigerator. “I need a glass of water. Would you like some?”

“Sure.” Andrea sounded preoccupied.

Marilyn opened a cupboard for two large glasses and filled them with ice and water. “I’m sorry. I’m very poor company right now.”

Andrea took one of the glasses from Marilyn with a hasty thanks. “Mary, I know how Jordan Hyatt learned about Rick’s tattoo. Or at least I have a theory.”

Marilyn turned from the refrigerator to face the reporter. Hope eased the tightness in her chest. “What is it?”

“Sit down.” Andrea sat beside Marilyn at the table. “As I said, I saw the interview Saturday night, too. And I was stunned. Rick would never cheat on you.”

Marilyn fisted her hands in her lap. “I want to believe that. But how could another woman know about his tattoo?”

Andrea reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out several sheets of folded paper. “Because she saw it—but Rick didn’t show it to her.”

Marilyn frowned. “You’re not making sense.”

The reporter smoothed the papers on the kitchen table between them. Marilyn glanced at the printouts. Her eyes widened as she realized what the color images represented.