Breaking the Rules Page 2

  Taking in a deep inhalation, she closed her eyes and whispered, “No more darkness, no more black; open the door and we’ll never look back. Reveal our path, light the way, and Chad and I will travel to better days. So mote it be.”

  She gave the silver bell she kept on her desk a quick shake, sealing the spell. Perhaps it was time to share what her married life had been like with Dee and Peg. Her two friends might be able to offer some advice she could use. Well, Peg might. Dee would most likely say suck it up and deal; after all, Justin was the husband.

  Her choice in Dee as a friend was baffling. Oh, sure, Dee was generous to a fault, but her personality could be overbearing at times. In many ways she was like Justin—domineering, opinionated. Peg wasn’t like that; she was easier to talk to.

  Life would be a whole lot easier if Justin would just leave. It was clear he no longer loved her, although she doubted he ever had, and her feelings for him were long dead. Plus, he didn’t even try to hide his affair. The whole town knew about him and Shelby. Nothing suggested that would be ending anytime soon, so why was he still around?

  She’d stopped caring about his running around long before now. Back when he’d explained the other women provided what she couldn’t, she’d tried harder to please him in the bedroom. But his philandering hadn’t stopped, and much to her self-disgust, she’d simply accepted his cheating as a way of life. He’d even stopped sleeping with her, which was a relief. She liked sex, a lot, just not sex with Justin. Someday a man would come along who’d rock her world. First things first, though. Leaving Justin had to be her priority.

  The rumble of the garage door riding on its tracks crawled up her spine. What the frig was he doing here? On any other morning, she and Chad would be long gone by the time he got home.

  Chad shouted from the kitchen, “Mama, Daddy’s home.”

  Her response was less than enthusiastic. “Yes, sweetie, I know.”

  Chapter 2

  “The secret to happiness is freedom… And the secret to freedom is courage.”

  Thucydides

  Chad asked his father if he’d brought donuts and Shannon listened from her office to Justin’s incoherent grumble, indicating he was in a foul mood. No surprise there. Lately, if Chad blinked, Justin growled. As Chad got older, it became harder and harder for her to maintain a distance between them. Boys wanted to be with their fathers, and Chad was no different. Unfortunately for Chad, Justin didn’t return the sentiment.

  Chad continued with a line of questioning that would have thrilled an FBI interrogator. “Daddy, did you get donuts? Is there chocolate? Where are they? Are they in the car? May I have one, please? Can I? Daddy, where are the donuts?”

  “For Christ’s sake Chad,” came Justin’s angry response. “Let me get in the goddamn house.”

  Shannon entered the kitchen and guided Chad away from Justin and positioned him facing the front hallway. “Sweetie, go upstairs and get yourself dressed. Brush your teeth, too.”

  Chad frowned, a tiny crease forming between his brows. “But Mama, where are the donuts?”

  A set of keys slammed against the counter, and Justin’s face twisted. “Enough about the donuts. Do what your mother says.”

  Undaunted by his father’s outburst, Chad escaped Shannon’s arms and stood at Justin’s feet. “Daddy, where were you? Did you go out? Where did you go?”

  Justin walked away from Chad and reached in the cabinet for a mug. “It’s none of your business where I was. You’re a kid. You don’t get to ask me questions. Go upstairs before I really lose my temper.”

  “Sweetie.” Shannon whisked Chad into the hallway. “If you hurry and get dressed, we’ll stop for donuts on the way to school.”

  “Yay, donuts!” Chad charged up the staircase.

  Shannon waited as Jasper followed, dog tags jangling in his hurry to catch Chad. Once she felt sure Chad was out of earshot, she faced her maybe-someday-hopefully-please-goddess-make-it-happen-ex-husband. “What are you doing here?” Had her question come across as accusatory as it sounded to her ears? She hadn’t meant it to. Or maybe she had. At this point, it was hard to separate her true feelings from her cowardly ones.

  “Jesus Christ, can’t I come home without being attacked? What are you doing here? Why isn’t Chad in school?”

  She watched his nostrils flare, a sure sign his anger was ready to spill her way.

  “It’s too early. We leave at seven.”

  “Yeah, well, get him dressed and get the fuck out of here.”

  “But—”

  “But, but.” He spat the words, using a mocking, falsetto tone. “I’m Shannon, and all I can say is ‘but.’ I think I’m special, but I’m really stupid.”

  He tossed more insults her way. The words she wanted to volley back at him cowered in her throat. Actually, there weren’t that many words, three to be exact: I am leaving you. Okay, four, if she counted the ‘am.’ Three, four, tomatoes, tomahtoes, what did it matter? She was no closer to saying them than she’d been yesterday…last week…last month…last year. Each time, when she felt the phrase slipping out, she swallowed it. Like a deer accepting its fate as a sixteen-wheeler careened its way, she remained mute and allowed Justin to mow her down. All she could do was stare at him.

  When she’d first met him, she’d thought he was handsome. With a strong, lantern jaw, and blue-black, wavy hair, he’d possessed a movie-star quality to his looks. But lately, his mouth was set in a permanent scowl and his eyes—if only she’d paid attention to his eyes. Almost crystal clear in color, the faint hint of blue had once been intriguing, but now… Well, now they reminded her of a doll’s eyes: lifeless, vacant…dead.

  Justin ended his list of demeaning insults with, “Just once I wish you could make a decision without my help, but no, I have to do everything because you screw things up.”

  “Excuse me? What are you talking about? What didn’t I do?”

  He shoved the mug at her. “Forget it. Get me some coffee.”

  She nodded. She used to run from guys who wanted relationships, preferring men who were only interested in screwing. No commitment meant no chance of her being controlled. All those years of avoiding emotional intimacy—they’d been a big, fat waste of time. She’d run away from attachments because she'd feared she’d end up under someone’s thumb, and here she was getting squashed like a bug.

  “Are you listening to me?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, giving her head a shake. “Why are you so angry? What’s wrong?”

  He marched over to her. “What’s wrong? Why do you think there’s always something wrong with me? What’s wrong with you?”

  “I didn’t say there was something wrong with you. I asked—”

  “Shut the fuck up and let me talk. I can never get a word in with you always yammering.” He kicked a stool away from the center island and sat. “I was having breakfast at the lodge, and that asshole St. John came in.”

  “St. John, the developer?”

  “Yeah, St. John, the developer; do you know of any other St. John? The guy’s a blowhard, always bragging about his money and how he owns Wexford. I wanted to smash his face in.”

  She poured coffee into the mug and held it out. “I agree he’s a jerk, bulldozing Wexford’s open land the way he does. By the time he’s finished, there’ll be no trees left standing.”

  “Are you stupid?” He whipped the mug from her hand. “I’m telling you what happened to me, and all you can babble about is trees?” He slammed the mug on the island’s tiled surface. “And I don’t want stale coffee.”

  “I was just—”

  “Save it. I can’t even have an educated conversation with you. At least Shelby went to college. I should leave you and marry her.”

  If she was smart, she’d let the comment pass, but as he’d pointed out many times, she was a dummy. So instead of holding her tongue, she poured gasoline on an already-raging, five-alarm fire. Maybe getting incinerated was what she needed. “Do it,” she seet
hed. “I’m begging you, grow a set of balls and do it. Divorce me and get the fuck out of my life.” She’d kept her voice low so Chad wouldn’t hear her, but in her head she’d screamed loud enough to wake the entire State of New Hampshire.

  His hand came narrowly close to her face, but she refused to back down.

  “I would never leave you,” he said.

  A smile replaced his scowl, sending cold shivers up her spine.

  “Even back when I asked you to marry me,” he continued, “I knew you were wrong for me, but you got yourself pregnant, and I would have been a heel to run out on you. I suppose you could leave me, but there’s no chance of that happening.” He released a snicker. “You’re too weak, so I guess I’m stuck with you.”

  She chewed her bottom lip, her teeth cutting into the skin, releasing the metallic taste of blood.

  He exhaled a heavy sigh and moved close. “I said, you’ll never leave me, will you?”

  She nodded. There wasn’t anything to say. He was right: she was weak. Oh, goddess, how she wished she had the courage to stand up to him.

  “I’m going to take my shower,” he said. “I’ll send Chad down, and when you’re done making my coffee, I want you both out of here.”

  A heavy weariness settled over her, and she nodded again and faced the sink, sickened by her gutlessness.

  Shouting and frantic barking startled Shannon, and the coffee canister dropped from her hand. By the time it hit the floor, her foot was already on the first step, and she ran up the rest of the staircase to the second floor. Justin stood in the doorway leading to Chad’s room, Jasper’s collar twisted in his hands.

  “Justin, stop, you’re choking him.”

  “Go downstairs, Shannon. This doesn’t concern you.”

  She tried to push past Justin, but he used his free arm to block her.

  “Let me through.” She caught a glimpse of Chad standing by the window. He was wearing only underwear and socks, and toys were lined up along the ledge.

  Justin dragged her and Jasper to the top of the staircase and sent them stumbling halfway down. Then he scrambled to Chad’s room and slammed the door.

  Shannon and Jasper rushed back up the steps, and she pushed against Chad’s door. “Justin, let me in.”

  Justin shouted at Chad from inside the bedroom. “Why can’t you do simple things? Are you stupid?”

  “Justin, open the door,” she cried, pounding with her fists.

  She remained barred from the room as threats of burning toys and boarding school followed She sank to the floor. “Dear goddess, hear my plea, protect my son; he is innocent in this ugliness I have brought upon him. Please, he is just a child.”

  Justin’s raving stopped, and he calmly instructed Chad to get dressed. The door opened, and Justin glared at her. “Don’t you ever interfere when I’m disciplining my son, do you hear me?”

  Jasper growled, and Justin kicked at him. “Go downstairs and take that fucking dog with you before I call the pound and have him put down.

  Shannon staggered down the steps, unable to stop her thoughts from traveling to a time when she’d prayed outside another closed door, after thirty years, her grandmother’s screeches still fresh in her mind. ‘You’re selfish; you never think of anyone else but yourself.’

  Back then, her young age had been her excuse for not being able to help her mother, but she wasn’t a little girl anymore. She was thirty-nine—an adult. What was her excuse now?

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,” she murmured as she swept up the coffee grounds.

  “Mama, who’s here?”

  She set the dustpan on the counter and pulled Chad into a fierce embrace. “Are you okay?” She checked his face and arms though she knew there were many ways to harm a person that didn’t involve physical injury.

  Chad wiggled from her grasp. “Mama, who’s here?”

  “No one, sweetie.”

  “But I heard you.”

  “Oh, I was talking to my mama.”

  “And what did your mama say?”

  “She said we should get going if we want donuts.”

  With a clap of his hands, Chad jumped in place. “She did? Can we?”

  “You bet. Let me look at you first.”

  He stood for inspection, arms by his side, a big grin on his face. Striped T-shirt, plaid shorts, mismatched socks. At least his sneakers matched.

  “Daddy said I look like a clown.”

  “Well, I think you look marvelous, exactly how an almost-six-year-old boy should look right before summer vacation. Where’s your backpack?”

  “Silly Mama, right there.”

  She glanced at SpongeBob’s goofy face loitering on the floor. “Okay, take Jasper and get in the car. You may open the garage door too. It’s donut time.”

  He bounced to the foyer door, a song about donuts leaping off his lips. Singing meant he was happy. Hopefully, he’d never have a reason to stop.

  After placing a new filter in the coffee maker, she added the grounds she’d scooped up off the floor and water to the chamber. She pressed BREW, slipped her bag off the counter, and fished out her phone. Meet at the Beans after we drop the kids off at school? I need help, she texted and entered the garage. Chad’s singing sounded loud and clear through the SUV’s open door.

  Chapter 3

  “Nobody can make you feel inferior without your consent.”

  Eleanor Roosevelt

  The voices of the patrons inside Brewin’ Beans hummed steadily against the whirring and sputtering of the espresso machine. Like bees around a hive, customers waiting for their morning fix of caffeine hovered by the counter. From where she sat, Shannon had a full view of the entire inside of the café. Jimbo hated when she called the Beans a café. ‘For the love of Pete,’ he’d complain. ‘Call it what it is, a goddamn coffee shop.’

  Of the handful of establishments in Wexford, the Beans was her favorite place to be. A friendly staff was always ready to serve her, and the coffee was as good as any European bistro. Of course, she’d never been to Europe, but she imagined it to be true. Plus, her scones were featured daily in the bakery case.

  And, of course, there was Jimbo. She sipped her lukewarm espresso and followed his movements. At six feet seven inches tall, three feet wide, with a shock of white hair, matching bushy eyebrows, and a chest-length beard, he was hard to miss. When she’d first met him, she’d immediately thought Old Saint Nick had decided owning a coffee shop in a small town in New Hampshire was the way to spend his off-time from the North Pole. Jimbo even sported the portly belly that shook whenever he laughed, which was often.

  A local kid who would ‘never amount to anything,’ Jimbo Albie had spent his middle- and high-school years playing football, stealing cars, and getting high. After he graduated, he bought a motorcycle and moved to Manchester, where he partied, sold drugs, and spent a good deal of time behind bars.

  If it hadn’t been for Adam St. John dragging Jimbo into rehab and then back to Wexford, he would have wasted away in some obscure alley. The developer had helped Jimbo buy the building she was sitting in and had handled all the renovations.

  Shannon wrinkled her nose, distaste tinging her saliva. Being a good friend to Jimbo didn’t excuse St. John for what he really was: a money-hungry, land-grabbing jerk.

  She felt no love for the residents of Wexford, but the wooded areas were magnificent, and St. John was mowing them down for his grotesque housing developments. If she’d been allowed to join the Conservation Committee, she’d be working hard to stop him, but nope, witches need not apply. She’d curtly been informed this by the committee’s chairperson and self-appointed witch hunter, Leeann, two e’s-two n’s. The woman needed to get a better way of introducing herself: ‘Hi, I’m Leeann—two e’s-two n’s—Chambers.’ Seriously, who introduces themselves like that? Every town had someone like her, the busybody who made sure her perky little nose was in everything.

  Shannon signaled toward the two women who entered the café. Th
e larger of the women walked up to the booth with a determined stride, unkempt frosted hair pushed behind her ears, cheeks, normally flushed, blazing cherry red. “I have a showing, so we need to make this snappy.” Cantankerous at times, opinionated often, and Irish to the core, Denise ‘Dee’ Boyle had a take-charge manner, and that morning was no different. Peering out from under hooded eyelids, she studied Shannon’s petite coffee cup. “You’re drinking espresso?” Her husky voice was thicker than usual, indicating a hangover. “Why don’t you drink real coffee like normal people?” Dee waved her hand at Shannon. “Switch sides, I need to see the door.”

  “It’s great to see you too, Dee,” Shannon said, exiting her seat. “Morning, Peg.” She paused to hug the tall redhead standing behind Dee.

  “Everything okay, Shan?” Peg stooped to place a light kiss on Shannon’s cheek.

  “Yeah, fine. I—”

  “Stop talking,” Dee said. “Peg, sit. What do you both want? My treat. The Holstein house sold, and my commission check was through the roof. Jeff and I stayed up late celebrating, and now I can’t get rid of this stinking headache. Shan, do you have any of your magic shit with you?”

  “Hmm, let me see, what do I want?” Peg said, tapping her chin with her index finger.

  “This isn’t rocket science, Peg,” Dee snapped. “Make a decision.”

  “I’ll have a double latte and one of Shannon’s scones,” Peg decided.

  “Same for me,” Shannon added. “But no scone.” She handed Dee a small packet of white powder. “For your headache.”

  “Why the two of you can’t drink normal coffee is beyond me.” Dee took the powder and looked at the line near the counter. “That’s bullshit. I’m not waiting in that. I’ll go round and corral Jimbo from behind.”