The Seven Year Itch

by

Pioneer Woman

Disclaimer:  This is a work of fiction and may include adult language and experiences; you have been warned.  Copyright PW 2004.

Did you ever look back on something you did and wonder how you could have been such an idiot?  You know what I’m talking about - one of those things that make you shake your head, and thank God, it all worked out in the end.  Well, this is one of those stories.  An episode in my life that would be almost comical, if it hadn’t come so close to costing me everything in my life that matters.

It all began one winter with a bad case of cabin fever and complications of the doldrums.  It had been a particularly cold, rough winter with lots of ice and snow.  I live on a farm, off a dirt road and down a scenic lane.  Scenic, that is, if you don’t have to drive it on ice.  So, between road conditions and having to stay close at hand to keep water thawed out for the chickens, horses, and cattle, I hadn’t been away from home much.

There’s a small town nearby that my four-year-old son, Kevin, and I had managed to get our Jeep to for groceries from time to time, but that was starting to get old.   My husband, on the other hand, works in the larger city of Weston, about an hour’s commute away.  He, therefore, had managed to continue having human contact on a regular basis, thus boosting his immune system to the dreaded cabin fever. 

The sun had finally begun to break us free from our icy prison, so my dear old friend Vanessa invited Kevin and me to visit.  Vanessa and I had worked together in our younger, wilder days, before husbands and motherhood had mellowed us.  She and her husband, Robert, had recently moved into a ‘fixer upper’ on the outskirts of Weston.  It had an indoor pool, so we were going to let Kevin and her three-year-old daughter, Julie, swim while we visited.

My other dear friend, Renee, had been invited, as well.  Vanessa and I hadn’t known Renee in our wilder, leaner years, but when the three of us got together, it seemed like we’d been a trio forever.  Renee had been introduced to me through a church friend, and we had instantly ‘clicked’.  Her husband, Andrew, had been career military, and our friendship started by mail.  Now, he’d retired, and they lived in Weston to be near her parents.

After getting the kids into the pool, the three of us settled in for a catch up session on our collective lives.  We all hit the usual highlights before getting into the nitty-gritty stuff.

“So,” Renee looked at me, her eyes dancing beneath her short ash blond hair, “how’s life on the homestead, old Pioneer Woman?”

“Pioneer woman is right,” Vanessa jumped in.  Her long curly brunette hair was pulled back and clipped up, enhancing her long, laughing face.  “She runs a regular plantation out there in the sticks.”

“Oh,” I countered, trying to conceal my true feelings, “you’re just jealous that you don’t have fresh eggs and beef, and horses of your own to ride.”

“Every time I talk to her,” Renee told Vanessa, “she’s just been out cutting wood or putting up hay or slaughtering a pig or something.”

“Oh, I know,” Vanessa picked right up, “She’s a regular modern woman; instead of bringing home the bacon, she raises it and butchers it herself.”

“Gee, I didn’t realize this was ‘pick on Cheryl’ day!”  I defended myself.

“Oh, we’re just teasing,” Renee winked.

“Well,” I confessed, “I’m not really in the mood to be teased lately.”

“What’s wrong, Hon?”  Vanessa asked, her teasing replaced by real concern.

“What’s right would be the easier question,” I complained.

“Oh, no!”  Renee’s teasing disappeared, as well.  “This sounds serious.  I thought you liked country life.”

“I do,” I shrugged.  “I’d just like a country man to share it with.”

Their eyebrows went up in unison; they exchanged a glance, and Vanessa took the plunge.  “OK, spill it.  What’s going on between you and John?”

I gave them a wry smile and shrugged.  “Nothing …that’s the problem.”

“You two have a fight?”  Renee asked.

“No,” I shook my head, long brown hair falling around my shoulders.  “Sometimes I wish I could get him to fight with me.  Fighting requires at least some degree of emotional involvement, maybe even passion.”

“Hmmm,” Vanessa narrowed her eyes.  “How long have you two been married now?”

“Seven years,” I told her, not sure where she was heading with this line of questioning.

“Yep, just what I thought,” she proclaimed.  “It’s a classic case of the seven-year-itch.” 

“Oh, puleeeze,” I moaned.

“No,” Renee chimed in, “I think she’s got a point.  You know, Andy and I are coming up on ten years ourselves.  We don’t have kids, but it still gets pretty boring sometimes.  There are days when I’d have to walk around nude and carry a golf club just to get noticed.  Life seems to just sort of get in the way after a certain amount of time.”

“You and John need to get out,” Vanessa suggested.  “How long has it been since you two had a REAL night on the town?  You know, dinner and dancing and then all night alone?”

I couldn’t contain my laughter at the last thought.  “First of all, John refuses to dance, and second, we’ve not had a night alone since Kevin was born.”

“OK,” Vanessa was a woman on a mission now.  “We’re all going out then.  I’ll get Mom to watch both Julie and Kevin here.  He can spend the night.  If Renee can convince Andy to come, then I’m sure you can persuade John.  We’ll all go to dinner and then hit a club to do some dancing.”

I shook my head.  “It’ll never fly.”

“Of course, it will,” Renee concluded.  “Here’s how …I’ll tell Andy that John has agreed to go, and you tell John that Andy agreed.  They’ll both go out of a sense of duty to each other.”

“OK,” I finally agreed.  “When?”

“This Friday night,” Vanessa decided.  “We’ll all meet here at 5:00.  Both of you ladies had better show up dressed to kill, if you get my drift.”

*

I was busily putting supper on the table, going over the plan in my mind.  Telling half-truths was not my strong suit, especially when it concerned my husband.  However, the thought of a night out on the town sounded so inviting, I was actually starting to smile inside.  Maybe it would work.  It wasn’t lack of love for my husband; it was just that we had become something more akin to roommates of late.  A night out might be just what we needed.

I heard the garage door close, and his footsteps coming up our deck stairs.  He had a heavy step for a man of his stature.  He wasn’t much taller than me, but he had a stout build, and his mid-drift reflected the years of married life and regular meals.  My mental image flashed clear of him striding up to the house, probably carrying an armload of various commodities …a bottle of milk from the dairy, his dirty lunch dishes, the mail.  I was always amazed at how much he could balance in his strong arms and big hands.  He often referred to himself as clumsy, but it was a rare occasion for him to drop anything in such a delicate balance.

It was still cold enough out that his breath would be visible, wafting out from between his close cut mustache and beard.  It was a beard that had been dark brown when we’d met, but had slowly become grizzled with gray over time, both of us now having hit forty.  His hazel eyes would be concentrating on each step, while invisible wheels turned in his mind, probably calculating some intricate math equation he hadn’t quite left behind at the office.  The wind had started picking up again, and it would be lifting his thick brown hair ever so slightly.

I’m sure I was smiling when he walked in, actually glad to see him.  Glad, that is, until he spoke.

“I didn’t think I’d ever get home,” he grumbled.  “Traffic was a nightmare.”

He unloaded his armful of debris on the table I’d just set for dinner.  My smile disappeared, and I turned back to the stove.  Kevin ran over to his father and began bubbling with stories of swimming as I cleaned the table off again.

I walked over to him and gave him a half-hearted smile, “Hi.”

He reached over to peck me on the lips with our ritual evening kiss, “Hi.”

“Do you mind getting drinks while I finish supper?”  I returned to the stove.

He dutifully obeyed, and I knew it wouldn’t be until later that I’d bring up the subject of Friday night.  Renee was right; as long as I made it sound like Andy had already agreed, John would go along even if it was reluctantly.

*

I spent all day Friday spoiling myself like I had when I was young.  Extra time in the shower, cold-water rinse on my hair to make it shine, scented lotion all over my body.  I took extra care picking out clothes, even underwear, and putting on makeup and fixing my hair.

When I’d done all I could, it was the first time I realized we didn’t even have a full- length mirror for me to survey the results.  John was supposed to change clothes at work and meet us at Vanessa’s house.  I wanted to get his attention when he walked in the door.  I hoped the dark black jeans would have a slimming effect, even if they weren’t the ‘painted on’ jeans I wore in my twenties.  I’d chosen a satin long sleeved blouse of maroon to contrast the black.  Once upon a time, it would have been a spandex tank top and black leather biker jacket.  Those days were now ancient history.

“You look pretty, Mommy,” Kevin broke into my thoughts.

“Thanks, Sweetie,” I smiled down at my pride and joy.  “You want to help me pick out earrings?”

*

Kevin and I arrived at Vanessa’s a few minutes early but not before Renee and Andrew.  She had obviously put in some extra effort herself, looking much younger than her forty-three years.  Her soft red sweater complimented her fair hair and eyes, and I caught Andy gazing at her in approval several times.

Andy was a big man, well over six feet tall, and he kept his dark hair cropped close in the military fashion to which he’d become accustomed.  He was still in good physical condition, a fact accentuated by the dark blue jeans and tight long-sleeved navy blue polo shirt.

“Wow,” Andy remarked when Vanessa let me in.  “Don’t you look hot!  I may have to talk to John about trading models tonight!”

“Andy!”  Renee knocked him in the stomach.  “You do look nice, Cheryl.  I’m sure John will perk up when he sees you.”

Vanessa was in a long dark green dress, and her hair was falling down her back almost to her waistline.  She was the youngest of our trio, still in her thirties, and kept in good shape with a daily swim.  Her husband, Robert, walked in, and smiled in his typically mischievous fashion.

“Hmmm,” he tilted his head, looked from Vanessa, to Renee, and then to me.  “I kind of like Andy’s idea myself.”

“You would.”  Vanessa almost purred when she rolled her eyes at him.  “Just remember turn about is fair play.”

Robert was several years’ Vanessa’s senior, he and Andy both in their mid forties.  He was almost as tall as Andy but not as muscular.  He had thinning light brown hair and light green eyes that seemed to dance constantly.  He was a doctor by trade, and his devotion to his profession had cost him his first marriage.  This go around he was deeply dedicated to his wife and family, determined not to repeat the mistakes of his youth.

“Have you heard from John?  Is he on his way?”  Vanessa asked, then to Kevin, “Julie’s in her room, go on back and see her.”

I nodded.  “He should be here anytime; he called my cell on the way in.”

“There he is,” Andy pointed out the window as John’s little white car pulled in.

I watched him get out and lock up the car.  He was in the black jeans I’d sent with him and a yellow short-sleeved polo shirt.  He never wore long sleeves, no matter how cold, always short sleeves.

I found myself anticipating his reaction.  Both Andy and Robert had approved so, surely, John would notice how I looked.  Robert opened the door to let him in and greeted him in his normal cheerful tone.

“Sorry, I’m late,” John apologized and glanced my way.  “You been waiting long?”

“Not really.”  I crossed the room toward him, feeling my excitement evaporate.  I could have been in a burlap sack for all it mattered.  “How was your day?”

“Normal,” he shrugged and gave me the normal peck on the lips.  “Where are we going for dinner?”

*

Dinner was pleasant, the men talking about golf, computers, and cars.  I had resigned myself to just enjoying the time out and not letting my disappointment put a damper on the evening.  Vanessa suggested we move our ‘little party’, as she called it, to a night club called THE SHOWCASE, which featured local bands and had a balcony with pool tables.

It was when we pulled into the parking lot, and I read the marquee that I realized I had, in all probability, been set up.  Vanessa must have known the band that was playing this weekend, or she wouldn’t have picked this club.  It could not have just been coincidence.

I glanced at John and was thankful for once that his observation skills weren’t as acute as my own.  A thousand scenarios flashed through my mind, and I felt my pulse increase, my cheeks starting to flush.  I wondered what I’d gotten myself into, but I knew it was too late for retreat.

‘I always did rush in where angels fear to tread,’ I thought wryly.  ‘This could be the end of life as we know it.’

Robert was holding the door open as we all trailed in, and I shot an accusing look at Vanessa.  She smiled, eyes laughing at me, knowing full well that I had read the sign and seen through her game.  We paid and looked for a table close to the dance floor.  I was already scanning the crowd for a familiar face.

“How’s this?”  Andrew pulled a chair out for Renee, and the other men followed his lead.

They all headed for the bar to get drinks for everyone, and I seized the opportunity to speak freely.

“What are you up to, Van?!”  I let her know I wasn’t thrilled.

“Moi?”  She chuckled.

“What are you talking about?”  Renee was obviously not privy to the plan.

“Did you see the band that’s playing?”  I asked, still glancing over my shoulder, looking paranoid.

“Renegade,” Renee answered.  “So?”

“So,” I explained, “don’t you know whose band that is?”

She had a blank look, so Vanessa answered.  “It’s Terry’s band.”

“Terry?”  Renee still hadn’t put the pieces together.

“Terry HOLMES,” I emphasized.

The light started to dawn in her eyes.  “YOUR Terry?!”

“Yes, Dear,” I nodded, “my Terry.”

“Vanessa,” Renee shot a disapproving look at our friend, “what are you trying to do here?”

“Oh, come on girls,” Vanessa laughed.  “Don’t get all prim and proper on me now.  Cheryl, look at John over there.  He’s a wonderful man …honest, reliable, dependable.  However, as cars go, he’s a station wagon, wouldn’t you say?  Designed for a family?”

I had to grin at her comparison since I’d thought the same thing myself upon occasion.

“So, what’s your point?”  I asked.

“My point is,” she explained, “sometimes station wagons need a jump start - and the best thing for that little job is a Lamborghini.”

“Lamborghini?”  Renee’s brow rose.

“Oh yeah,” Vanessa nodded.  “You’ve never seen Terry, have you?  He’s definitely a top of the line sports model.”

Her comparison made me shudder.  It also brought his image to my mind as clearly as if I’d seen him yesterday, instead of over twelve years ago.  I could feel my heart pounding and wondered if he had aged as much as I had since our last encounter.

“Here,” John shattered my thoughts and handed me a soda as he sat down.  My days of alcohol and cigarettes had disappeared with the leather jacket.

“Since the band isn’t playing yet,” Robert suggested, “how about some pool, Boys?”

“Sure,” Andy rose, and the men headed up the stairs to indulge.

“Has John ever met Terry?”  Renee seemed as worried with the possibilities looming on the horizon as I was.

“No,” I shook my head, “but he does at least know about him.  Although, judging from his behavior, he doesn’t remember that Renegade is the name of his band.”

Terry Holmes.  Just the name made me smile.  He had been my high school sweetheart, my first love.  He’d been my best friend from my teen years into my late twenties.  I, along with everyone who knew us, thought he’d be the man I married and raised a family with.  He’d been the man who had taken my virginity, but he’d also been the man who had broken my heart.  Broken, not from infidelity or dishonesty, but because he loved me enough to do what was best for me.

As a young man, Terry had visions of making it big with his band.  When he was facing thirty and about to abandon those dreams, he got the chance to move to Texas and record with them.  I would have followed willingly, eagerly.  He knew what that life would be like, though, so he had left me behind, tears in my eyes, wondering if I’d ever see him again.

I hadn’t seen him since that day, although he’d written and called from time to time.  He always let me know where he was and how he was doing.  He’d stopped calling and writing after I had married John.  I knew he’d returned to Weston, had a day job again, and was just playing for fun.  I’d wondered if we might bump into each other sometime, but I hadn’t quite thought of this scenario.

That’s when I felt it.  The electrical charge running through my entire being, that was so familiar.  Just as familiar as the sound of the laughter echoing from behind me.  I turned around to see him standing there.  I felt a lump in my throat and heat deep within me.

He was tall, standing right at the six-foot mark.  Long legs in his faded blue jeans …I remembered the power in those legs.  Long arms, straight and muscular, hiding in a light aqua green, long-sleeved shirt.  The first few buttons were undone, revealing the cross necklace he always wore.  I had given that necklace to him as a graduation present - I couldn’t believe he still had it around his neck.  It had become an intricate part of our relationship – each time we had parted, I would put my hand on it and say something special to him that ended with the word ‘always’.  Then he would hold my hand there and repeat, ‘Always.’  Now, here he was wearing it …always.  It was nestled on his broad chest, tugging at the hair peeking out.

I recalled those arms and that chest.  I caught my breath at the thought of resting my head there, his arms wrapped around me.  His heart beating in my ear.

His hair was long, thick, and blond.  It was pulled back into a ponytail like he’d worn it for years.  The hair I’d run my fingers through countless times.  The hair I had buried my face in when we made love.

His face was strong and sure, smooth from a fresh shave.  Smiling, his teeth as white as ever, didn’t betray his nearly life-long smoking habit.  That’s when he must have felt it, too.  That same electrical current that had caught me.

He turned his eyes my direction, as if my sitting there was the most natural thing in the world.  His eyes.  Terry possessed the bluest eyes I’d ever known.  He was at least thirty feet away, but it was like our eyes were only inches apart.  My own were as deeply brown as his were blue, and I’m quite certain they betrayed me.

His entire being lit up like a Christmas tree as he caught sight of me.  It seemed like it only took him one stride to be right there next to me.  I barely had time to stand up before he had whisked me up in his arms, swinging me full circle, holding me tightly in those strong arms.

“Sherry!”  He shouted loudly enough in his deep baritone voice that people in the street must have heard.  He was the only person in the whole world who had ever called me Sherry.

“Hey, Terry,” I said softly in his ear; his familiar scent was almost intoxicating.

As he planted me back on the ground, I wondered if my legs would fail me.  Before I had time to recover, his lips were on mine, kissing me with the same passion they had twenty years earlier.  I felt myself responding to his familiar, delving kiss, wishing my body wouldn’t betray me, yet luxuriating in the rush of emotions flooding through me.

When he drew away from me, I wondered if I had lipstick smeared everywhere.  The thought was fleeting though, when I realized that our husbands had appeared out of nowhere and were all standing there, likes ducks in a row, mouths gaping at what had just transpired.

“Terry Holmes.”  I tried to regain my composure by making introductions.  “You remember Vanessa, I’m sure.  This is her husband, Dr. Robert Nixon.  This is my dear friend, Renee, and her husband, Col. Andrew Jansen.  And this, Terry, is my husband, John Rogers.”

He smiled confidently, shook hands in turn, and as he reached for John’s hand, said in a slightly teasing voice, “So, you’re the man who stole my girl?  Glad to finally meet you.”

I remember wondering whose hand crushed whose on that handshake, a fleeting image of male dogs marking territory flashing through my mind.  No matter what I had told John about Terry, nothing could have possibly prepared him for this.  Vanessa was right.  Terry was a Lamborghini, even at the age of forty-two.  He’d lost the lean lanky look of youth; it had been replaced by the mature essence of a man in the prime of his life.  The years had been kind to him, still not a hint of gray hair; he looked no more than thirty-five.

John gave a weak smile, unsure of how to reply to Terry’s frank referral to our relationship.  That was typical Terry style.  No secrets, no beating around the bush.  What you see is what you get.

“Hey, Van,” he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, then grabbed a chair, as lightly as if it were a toothpick, flipped it around, and sat down straddling it, arms folded across its back.

Among the thoughts racing through my mind was a fear that my jeans were already showing the wetness I could feel growing there.  All these years, and he still could have such a startling effect on me.

“Looks like life’s been good to you, Terry.”  Vanessa could tell I needed some help.

“I can’t complain.”  He whipped out a cigarette and lit it, then motioned toward my soda.  “Which is it?  Rum and Coke?  Jack and Coke?  Where’s your Crown and Seven, Love?”

His memory was as keen as ever.  “Just Coke these days, Dear.”  I almost bit my tongue when I felt that word ‘dear’ escape.  John had to be reeling by now, and I really hadn’t meant for things to happen like this.

Terry’s eyes spoke volumes to me as he smiled.  “Motherhood has mellowed my wild girl, eh?  Well, I hope you’ll at least get out there and dance for me, Baby.  I could use some inspiration tonight.  Nice to meet you all.  I’ll catch you at the break, Sweetheart.”

He was gone as fast as he’d arrived, disappearing behind the curtain to the side of the stage.  I felt John glaring at me.  I certainly had his full attention now.

“Who was he?”  Andrew finally asked the big question.

“Terry Holmes,” Renee answered, avoiding the real question her husband asked.

“So that’s Terry.”  Robert chuckled, obviously amused as much as his wife by the situation.  “Terry is Cheryl’s old boyfriend.  The one who left her for the bright lights of the big city.”

“Love?  Baby?  Sweetheart?”  John finally spoke.  “Did you know he was going to be here?”

“He said those words, not me.”  I was already on the defense, “and, no, I didn’t know he was going to be here.”

“Vanessa?”  John turned to her, suspicious.

“Ain’t it a small world?”  She grinned, lighting a cigarette of her own.

I suddenly felt a pang for a smoke and drink myself.  This night was turning into something of a dark comedy with me as the focal point.  That’s when I realized that John had scooted his chair closer to mine, and he was looking at me like he’d never seen me before.  Maybe Vanessa’s plan wasn’t so bad after all.

Those few moments crept by like years until Terry and his band took the stage.  I looked at the familiar faces with him.  Was it my failing memory that made them look so much older than he did?  The crowd started cheering and chanting, “Renegade.”  This band had a large local following, and I could see Terry’s groupies gathering in front of the stage, eager to reach out and touch him.

His guitar was slung around his strong frame, and he stepped up to the microphone.  He had always sung lead and written most of their music.  I could feel my body tingling again and wondered if John was aware of it.  He was looking back and forth between Terry and me. 

“Is everybody ready to party tonight?”  Terry shouted to the crowd amid cheers.  He looked straight at me.  “This is going to be a real special night …I can feel the excitement already rising!”

I blushed at Terry’s blatant double meaning.  I felt John slip his arm around my back a bit possessively and figured he caught it, too.

The band started playing, and I was amazed at how the tunes and words flooded back to me.  Their sound was a mixture of blues, rock, and a touch of country.  Terry’s voice was a clear baritone, and it cut through to my soul.  I knew most of those songs had been written to or about me.  Others were about friends Terry and I had shared in the distant past.  I found it hard to sit there and listen – I was used to dancing to those songs.

“John,” I tried to use my sweetest, most persuasive voice, “would you please dance with me?”

“I can’t dance, Cheryl.”  He shook his head.  “You know that.”

 “Please?”  I could feel tears threatening.

He just shook his head and looked back at the band.

Robert must have evaluated the situation because he reached for my hand.  “I hear you’re a master of the dance floor, Cheryl.  Will you do me the honor?”

I followed him.  “Thank you, Robert.”

He grinned at me as we danced to a song with a good beat.  “Give him a break, Hon.  He’s still trying to digest all of this.”

“Do you think he’s mad?”  I asked.

“No,” he shook his head.  “But he certainly put an abrupt end to our pool game when he saw Prince Charming swinging you around and planting a big, slurpy kiss on you."

“Do you realize your wife set me up?”  I asked.

“I kind of figured that,” he laughed, “so just take advantage of it.  You’ve got every man in this joint staring at you tonight.  When the lead singer googles all over you, it tends to make everyone notice.”

“Is Terry googling?”  I asked, unwilling to look for myself.

“To put it mildly,” Robert laughed.  “But then, so is John.”

The song ended, and we sat back down.  I could feel John’s gaze on me.

“You are a master of the dance floor,” he acknowledged.

“Thanks,” I smiled.  “I used to dance like that all night long.”

John’s next comment was lost when Terry announced the band’s first break.  The DJ cut in and started playing familiar old rock tunes, and Terry jumped as lithely as a cat from the stage into a crowd of giggling, squirming girls.

I couldn’t help smiling.  Most of them were young enough to have been his daughters, and he towered over them.  He gently, politely, eased his way through the adoring throng and headed for the bar.

“Are you having fun?”  John broke into my thoughts.

“Yes, I am.”  I nodded, wondering if his question was sincere or rhetorical.  “Are you?”

His answer was cut off by a beer bottle being set down between us.  Terry swung a chair up and plopped down just behind us, leaning his face close.  I never liked the smell or taste of beer.  Never, that is, except when it was mingled with Terry’s breath …or his kisses. 

“Sure took you long enough to get out there, Love.”  He tilted his head, searching my eyes with his own.  “What took you so long?”

“I wouldn’t dance with her.”  John shocked me with his confession.

Terry turned to him with a slanted smile.  “Well, shame on you, then.  You’ve not only stolen the love of my life, but now you’ve robbed me of my greatest pleasure – watching her dance.”

I’m still not sure how I managed not falling out of my chair with Terry’s announcement.  John’s look of sheer amazement may have had something to do with it.

“You haven’t changed a bit, Terry.”  Vanessa swooped in to rescue us.

Terry laughed his deep rumble and lit a cigarette.  He lifted his eyes to me, offering the pack, and I shook my head.

“You have mellowed, haven’t you?”  He shook his head.  “So what’s this I hear about kids and a farm?”

“One son,” I answered, glad for a neutral subject.  “Kevin is four.  We live out near Lincoln on a hundred acres.”

“Really?”  He raised his eyebrows.  “So did you finally get your horses?”

“Yes,” I smiled at the thought, “I finally got my horses.”

“Well, good for you, Sweetheart.”  He had always used a lot of endearing terms when he spoke to me.  “Looks like we both got what we wanted, eh?”

“Hey, Terry,” a voice called across the crowd, “Sid needs you, man.”

“Later, Babe,” he rose and took his beer through the crowd.

“He’s quite a character,” Andy observed, watching him disappear.

“That’s the understatement of the year,” John commented, not pleased with the ease Terry displayed around me.

“I noticed he’s not wearing a ring,” Renee winced even as she said it.

“I noticed the cross he IS wearing.”  Vanessa was taunting me.

“I noticed that too,” Andy followed, innocently.  “He doesn’t seem the religious type.”

John looked at me, and I could read the question on his face.  I figured I might as well explain now in front of everyone.

“The necklace with the cross was a present.”  I looked at Vanessa, wanting her to know I didn’t appreciate this forced confession.  “I gave it to him when he graduated from high school.”

Looks in varying degrees of surprise crossed their faces.  I shifted my eyes to John, and I could see the impact my statement had made on him.  He knew how old Terry was.  John was a master mathematician; his degree was in physics.  I was sure he had already calculated it.  Terry had been wearing that cross around his neck for twenty-four years.

He also knew Terry and I had broken up almost thirteen years ago.  A long time for a man to carry a torch for an old flame.  Clearly, though, from Terry’s comments, the torch was still burning with a reasonable degree of brightness.  I couldn’t help wondering what was going through John’s mind.

The band returned to the stage, and I was relieved.  However, my relief came to an abrupt end as Terry began to speak.

“Is everyone havin’ a good time tonight?”  He waited for the cheers.  “I know I am.  I’ve got a real special treat for you all tonight.  There’s a song I wrote a long time ago, and we hardly ever get a chance to play it.  It’s one of my favorites, but it’s a duet ….”

Horror struck me as I realized what Terry was planning.  Visions of homicide and suicide flashed before me.

“There’s only one lady I know who can sing it with me,” he continued to the cheering crowd, “and she just happens to be here tonight!  So let’s give her some encouragement and get her to come up here.”

His eyes were on me.  Everyone’s eyes were on me.  John’s degree of horror matched my own as he realized where Terry was heading with this.  Terry must have read the panic on my face because he flashed me one of his big grins that he knew melted my insides.

“Come on, Cheryl,” he finally invited, “I know you remember this one …I wrote it for you.”

If looks could kill, there would have been vultures circling everywhere.  I was ready to kill Terry.  John was ready to kill us both.

Vanessa started chanting, “Cher-yl!  Cher-yl!  Cher-yl!”

I added her to my list of people to kill tonight.  I glanced at Renee and could see she was equally horrified for me.  I had no choice.

“Where angels fear to tread,” I muttered as I got up and headed for the stage.

During the break, Terry had traded his long sleeved shirt in for a tight white tank that accented his muscular arms and shoulders.  He reached down and grabbed me with one arm, swinging me to the stage like I weighed no more than a bag of feathers.

My anger with him vanished as he smiled and winked at me, motioning for me to take the extra microphone.

They started playing, and the crowd seemed to disappear.  I had been on stage with him many times before, and it felt just as it always had.  It was as if he and I were the only ones in the room.  The words and notes came back to me as if we’d never been apart.  It had always been one of my favorite songs, as well.  It spoke of us as best friends and as lovers.  It spoke of a love undying, of a man willing to sacrifice anything for the woman who was the center of his life, his world, his universe.

The crowd returned to my world as we ended, and I could hear their cheering.  Terry put his arm around me, and I could smell his sweat as he hugged me close and kissed my cheek.  I felt a pang when I realized how much I wanted that arm to stay there.

“Let’s give her a big hand,” he encouraged them, still squeezing me.  “Ain’t she the classiest lady you’ve ever seen?  And see that man out there?  He’s her husband!  I’d say he deserves some applause, too, for being so gracious about this, wouldn’t you?”

Terry was the master of salvaging no win situations; he always had been.  He could turn total disaster into triumph like no one I’d ever seen.  He had just repaired a whole night’s worth of damage in one fell swoop with that comment.  I could see the look on John’s face change from pure hate to one of respect in an instant.

Terry let me down off the stage, again with one arm, and I hurried back to my seat.

“Wow, Cheryl,” Andy and Renee both spoke together, and he continued, “I had no idea you could sing like that.”

“Neither did I.”  John was grinning from ear to ear.  He leaned over and kissed the same cheek that Terry had.  “That was beautiful, Honey,” he whispered in my ear.

John seemed to enjoy this set much more, and he was certainly more attentive to me.  I noticed Andy and Robert were both a bit more attentive to their wives, as well.  I had to chuckle at the last reflection.  Obviously, the Lamborghini was jumpstarting several station wagons tonight.

I had lots of dance offers and, with John’s nod of approval, accepted them all.  I could feel his eyes watching me dance now, as well as Terry’s.

As the band took their last break, I headed back for the table.  John was watching me walk back, and his smile told me he was proud I was walking back to him.

I had barely gotten seated when Terry walked up.  He’d put his other shirt back on, sleeves rolled up, left untucked and unbuttoned over the tank.  The cross necklace danced across his chest, shining as brightly as the day I’d given it to him.

“May I push the limits of your grace a bit farther, Sir,” he was addressing John, “and borrow your wife for a dance?”

Refusing Terry, disliking Terry, was simply not an option.  It never had been.  He had such an infectious love of life that you couldn’t keep from liking him.  He was everyone’s friend because he genuinely liked people.  In all the years I’d known him, I’d seen him lose his temper only once, and that was over someone abusing a dog.

“Yes, you may,” John nodded.  “Thank you for asking.”

Terry reached for my hand, and I realized they were playing a slow song.  I hesitated, and he knew why.  He gently pulled me to the dance floor, drew me close to him, and wrapped my arms around his neck.

“I won’t hurt you,” he teased.  “You know I bite gently.”

“Terry,” I blushed at the thought, “you are definitely pushing the limit tonight.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t like it, Love.”  He looked down into my eyes.  “I know better.  You’re in your full glory tonight.  You’ve got every man in this place eating out of your hand, lining up to take you home with them.”

“Terry,” I scolded, “I’m married now.”

“So,” he kissed me on the forehead, “that just means that you know who you’re going home with.”

“Well,” I raised my brows at him, “I hope YOU know who I’m going home with.”

“Of course, I do.”  He was talking low and soft, but I could hear him easily over the music.  “I know I blew my chance with you.  I hope you know that I’m happy for you, Darlin’.  He seems like a good guy.  Most men would’ve killed me by now, but he’s just sitting there patiently, waiting for you to come back to him.”

“He is a good guy,” I agreed, “and he’s a good husband and father.”

“And you know what else, Sweetheart?”  I could hear a tease coming in his voice.  “I bet he’s got a boner so bad he can’t stand up right now!”

“Terrence Holmes!”  I scolded, but I had to laugh.  “You are bad!”

“No, Baby,” he laughed and leaned into my ear, “I’m good and you know it!”

He pulled me closer, and I could feel his own firmness pressing against me.  I decided to play his game.

“John’s not the only one with a boner, is he?”  I looked up at him with mischief in my eyes.

“Ever since I set eyes on you, Sweetheart,” he sighed.  “You look even more luscious than you did twenty years ago.  John’s the luckiest man on earth as far as I’m concerned.”

I felt a lump in my throat and tears welling up as I realized how much Terry still loved me.  He must have read my look because he gently kissed my cheek and whispered as the music ended, “Let’s get you back to that husband of yours, shall we?”

As I sat down, I heard Terry thanking John politely and watched him walk away.  It took me back to that moment almost thirteen years earlier when I’d watched him walk away.  Strong, confident, certain he was doing the right thing.  Never a backward glance.  Never any sign of regret or hesitation.

“Cheryl,” John took my hand, “are you all right, Honey?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”  I shook myself back to the present.  “Would you go get me a glass of water, Sweetheart?”

The last set was uneventful compared to the rest of the night, but I knew when they stopped playing I’d have to say good night to Terry.  They were still on the stage, putting away instruments and fending off groupies when I approached.

John was waiting near the exit with the rest of our party, and I felt certain he was watching my every move.  I had asked his permission, though, so I went with a clear conscience.

Terry’s back was to me, several young girls around him, all of them eager for his attention.  He must have felt me looking at him because he turned and stepped away from the group.

“Hey, Sherry.”  He smiled and held his arms out wide.

“Hey,” I replied and went into his arms like a child.

He hugged me close, and I felt his breath in my ear.  “You come to tell me goodnight, Sweetheart?”

“Yes, I did.”  I drank in his smell and felt tears coming again.

“So, was it?”  He let go a little, but still had his hands on my waist, my hands resting on his chest.

“Was it what?”

“A good night?”  He grinned.  The creases at the edge of his eyes were starting to show as the night wore on.  It was the only trace of fatigue on him.

“Yes, a very good night,” I nodded.  “It was good to see you again, Terry.”

“It was good to see you again, Love.”  I thought I caught a hint of moisture in his eyes, too.  “I’ve often wondered what he was like.  It does my heart good to know you’ve got someone who’ll take good care of you.”

“Terry…,” I started, but he put a finger to my lips to stop me.  He still knew me so well.  He knew exactly what I was about to say.

“Don’t, Honey.”  He shook his head and I saw a tear escape the corner of one eye.  “I’m not worth it.  You just be happy, ok?  That’s all I ever wanted …for you to be happy.”

“And what about you, Terry?”  I asked quietly.  “Are you happy?”

“I am now,” he winked, and another tear escaped.  “Now, Darlin’, you go home with that fine husband of yours and put a big smile on his face, you hear me?”

I chuckled and nodded my head.  “I intend to do just that, Dear.”

“Take care of yourself, Sherry.”  He tipped my chin up with one hand and bent down to kiss me.

I knew John was watching, but I couldn’t help responding.  I felt in my heart this would be the last time I would ever see Terry, and I needed that kiss as much as he did.  I knew he was telling me his final goodbye.

“Take care of yourself, Terry,” I whispered as our lips retreated.  I reached up and put my hand on the cross on his chest.  He looked down at my hand, where it had rested every time we had parted since I’d given it to him.  He put his hand over mine just like he always had.

“Good bye, Terry.”  I could feel the tears falling now.  “And God be with you, ALWAYS.”

“ALWAYS,” he repeated, his voice trembling in a way I had rarely heard.  He smiled down at me through tears, holding my hand there on his chest, both of us fighting back our desire to kiss again.  I knew it was taking every bit of his restraint not to kiss me with all the passion he felt in that moment.  It was at that moment that I really understood the gift he had given me all those years ago.  He let go of my hand, and I turned and walked away.

*

John walked me to our Jeep in silence, and we said our good byes to our friends.  Kevin was spending the night at the Nixon’s house, so we had an hour-long drive home and the rest of the night alone.  I hoped and prayed I hadn’t ruined the opportunity for us.

We were over half way home before I finally decided to break the silence.  “You’re awfully quiet.”

“I’ve got a lot to think about,” he said in a low voice, his eyes still on the road.

I nodded.  “Such as?”

“Such as,” he looked at me now, and I could see tears in the corner of his eyes this time, “watching my wife kiss another man.”

“John,” I turned my whole body toward him and tried to dig myself out of the hole I’d jumped into headfirst.  “You have every right to be angry with me about tonight ….”

“I’m not angry.”  He shook his head and I knew he was telling me the truth.  “I’m not angry with you.”

“Why not?” I asked.  “If I were in your shoes, I’d be angry.”

He glanced at me and smiled, “Yes, I’m sure you would be.”

We drove on in silence again for a few moments, then he began talking softly, almost like he was thinking out loud.

“He’s nothing like I’d imagined.  When you told be about this guy, Terry, I pictured him totally different.  I always thought he was a real jerk.  I figured he had to be an idiot to let you go.  I knew I might meet him someday, and I’d planned on hating him ….”  He trailed off, and I just listened.  “I couldn’t hate him, Cheryl.”

I had to smile.  “It’s pretty hard to hate Terry.”

“He’s not a jerk, is he?”

“No,” I answered softly, “he’s not.”

“He’s not an idiot, either.”

“No,” I agreed, “he’s not.”

I realized that we were pulling up to our garage.  He turned off the engine, and we sat there.

“He wrote all those songs to you, didn’t he?”  He turned to me.  “Not just the one you sang with him …all of them.  They were all for you …about you …weren’t they?”

“Yes, Johnny,” I nodded, “they were.”

“How can I be angry with you for kissing him?” he asked.  “I’ve never written anything like that for you.  I’ve never put you on a stage in front of a crowd and declared my undying love to you.  He’s still wearing a present you gave him twenty-four years ago …I wouldn’t even dance with you.  He still loves you just as much as he did then, Cheryl.  It was written all over him.”

“Johnny …,” I started.

“Do you still love him?”

Big lump in my throat now.  How was I going to answer this one?  Too late to stop being honest.

“Yes, Johnny,” I nodded, “of course, I still love him.  Everyone loves Terry, you said as much yourself.  How can I not love someone who was willing to sacrifice his own desires for mine?”

“So, Cheryl,” he was still trying to put pieces together, “why did he leave?  Why didn’t he marry you?”

Tears started streaming down my cheeks as I answered as much to myself as to John.  “Because, Johnny, he understood what it means to be married.  He understood that love is not enough.  Marriage is more than just pretty words and butterflies in your stomach.  It’s about two people being there for each other day in and day out …working on a life together.  It’s paying bills, putting food on the table, doing laundry and mowing lawns …shoveling snow, feeding cattle, watering chickens, putting hay out for horses ….”

He was just sitting there, listening to me talk.  I sighed and went on.  “He knew me, John.  He knew what I wanted in life.  He loved me enough to let me go, so I could have those things.  Those are the things I have with you, Johnny.  I didn’t know he would be there tonight.  I didn’t get all dressed up for him.  I didn’t put in extra time on my hair and make up for him.  And I certainly didn’t go to great lengths to get Kevin out of the house for the night for him!  I did those things for you, John.  You’re the man I married.  I love you.”

He finally smiled.  “Kevin’s gone for the night, isn’t he?”

“Yes, he is.”  I grinned.  “So, are we going to take advantage of that, or are we going to sit out in the cold all night talking?”

 

He opened his door, “I think we’ve talked enough.  Let’s go warm each other up.”

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