Winter Stroll by Hilderbrand Elin

Author:Hilderbrand, Elin [Hilderbrand, Elin]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Fiction / Family Life, Fiction / Contemporary Women
Publisher: Little, Brown and Company
Published: 2015-10-20T07:00:00+00:00

She is only here for the weekend, Kelley tells himself. This isn’t permanent. This isn’t real.

Except she is only too real, sitting in the passenger seat next to him, dabbing at her nose with a tissue. She pulls down the visor to look at herself in the mirror, and she fruitlessly tries to tuck her curls under her hat. This tiny gesture pierces Kelley’s heart. He doesn’t want to love her; he doesn’t want to find her attractive—but he’s helpless. The entire car now smells like her.

He reaches out and puts his hand on her leg, thinking she’ll most definitely rebuff him. But instead, she covers his hand with her hand.

The next thing Kelley knows, he and Mitzi are sneaking in the back door of the inn and hurrying down the hall to Kelley’s bedroom—which, for nineteen years, was their bedroom. Once the door is closed, Kelley and Mitzi start madly kissing, kissing like they haven’t kissed in years and years. Kissing so intensely that they fall back on the bed, and then Mitzi takes off her shirt, and Kelley thinks, Are we really going to do this? It’s not a good idea, not in any respect, it will only confuse them both when things are so confusing anyway, but he can’t seem to tear himself away. He cannot take his hands or his mouth off her.

They make love, fast and furiously, like somehow their lovemaking might be the thing missing, the thing that will save Bart.

Afterward, they both lie on their backs, breathing heavily.

Does he feel better? Physically, yes, definitely! But emotionally? No, not really. He doesn’t want a weekend fling with Mitzi, or Margaret, or anyone else. He wants his wife back.

He reaches over and cups her chin. “Did the alcohol cloud your judgment?”

“I only had a few glasses of wine,” she says. “But it was on an empty stomach and I was upset about George, and then D-Day asked about Bart and I started to cry. Do you remember when D-Day and Bart were in Little League together and D-Day hit Bart with that pitch?”

“I do, actually, now that you mention it,” Kelley says. This is only half a lie. Kelley doesn’t remember D-Day throwing the pitch but he does remember Bart getting hit as a ten-year-old. He remembers Mitzi freaking out and running onto the diamond and shrieking for an ambulance. Not an ice pack, an ambulance. She has always been that kind of mother. Surely George realizes this? How can George reasonably expect Mitzi to accept that her son has been taken hostage by a force as allegedly brutal as the Bely?

Mitzi buttons her blouse and sits up. “I should go,” she says. “I need lunch. I haven’t eaten all day.”

Kelley swings his feet to the floor. The sex has left him light-headed; it’s been a while. “Come to the kitchen,” he says. “I’ll make you lunch.”

“You don’t have to,” she says.

“I want to,” he says.

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