“Did you remarry?”
This time she turned and looked at me. “No. When he died, it was hard on me. I was lost and confused.” She slowly shook her head and wiped a tear away. “I was so lonely. His army buddies would come and check up on me. I don’t think I could have made it through without them. We had been trying to have a baby.”
I gave her a soft smile and nodded to keep her talking. She had trailed off and stared out the window.
“Shortly after my husband died, something happened between me and his best friend. Something sexual. One night after everyone had left. Neither of us wanted to stop it, so we didn’t.”
Oh dear.
“Were you both having the affair before he passed away?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“And you feel guilty that you moved on? That’s a normal emotion to experience, Lisa.”
She wiped a tear away and sighed. “I feel tormented for a few different reasons. One of them was sleeping with my husband’s best friend. Another was knowing that best friend wasn’t single.”
“Was he married?”
“No,” she softly said. “When it first happened, we decided it could never happen again. He was tormented by his own demons. He felt responsible for my husband’s death. Then with what happened between us, he felt so guilty he ended up asking his girlfriend to marry him. I know he loved her. I know he did, but he was so lost. With me he said he found he could be . . . himself.”
I had picked up my pad of paper and made notes. “And did it happen again between the two of you?”
“Yes. We tried so hard to stop. You have to know.”
Smiling, I tilted my head. “Lisa, I’m not here to judge you.”
Her chin trembled as she went on. This poor girl. I was hoping she wasn’t still carrying on the affair with this man. For the sake of all parties involved.
“It was like we both felt closer to my husband when we were together, as crazy as that sounds. He didn’t live in the same town as me, so he didn’t come to visit often. When he did, we enjoyed each other’s company. Sometimes it led to sex, and sometimes it just led to hours of talking. Then I got pregnant.”
My eyes jerked up to meet hers. Her expression concerned me, but I couldn’t put my finger on the reason.
“He came to visit me after he got out of the army. Told me he had to end things with me. He owed it to his fiancée to give her a hundred percent of himself. They had dated since high school.”
A strange rush of dread raced across my body, and I felt myself holding my breath as I waited for her to continue.
“When I told him about the baby, I was ready for him to freak out. But he didn’t. He told me he was confused. He loved me, but he loved her. I told him I couldn’t be his mistress. I needed a father for our baby. I gave him an ultimatum. I . . . I forced him to pick. Me and the baby or her.”
She covered her mouth and cried.
“It’s okay, take your time. If you need to take a break, we can.” I wasn’t sure which of us needed the break more.
With a shake of her head, she pulled in a deep breath. “No, I need to do this. He sat down on the sofa and cried. It was the first time I had ever seen this man cry, and I caused it. It nearly destroyed me. He already suffered so much, having nightmares about a mission gone wrong, about watching my husband die. And I’d only added to his misery.”
My pencil stopped writing, and I stared at the notes in my lap. My heart beat faster. Harder.
“Then he stopped crying and stood, like he was fine. He smiled and told me he would take care of everything. I thought he was okay. I dared to believe maybe we could be happy together—that he had picked me over her. I felt guilty for feeling that way, but I knew I gave him something she couldn’t. I filled a space in his soul, and I was making him a father. He loved her, but he wasn’t in love with her.”
I did not understand why I asked the next question, but I heard it coming out of my mouth and couldn’t stop it.
“Did you get pregnant on purpose to force his hand?”
“No. He visited two months before, and things got a little . . . different in the bedroom. It was more passionate. We hadn’t had sex the last few times he’d visited, and we both were hungry for each other. We didn’t use protection, and we stayed in bed together for hours making up for lost time.”
I stared at her. The truth pushed at the back of my mind, but I refused to let it in.
“Truth is, he filled the spot Lance had left.”